THE CHARM OF GARDENS 



from ear to ear all down the field, and when the breeze 

 came, and blew birds across the hedge, the whole field 

 swayed, showing a rustling, silken surface, as if it 

 enjoyed a great joke. The Poppies and Cornflowers 

 and the White Convolvulus had no part in the conversa- 

 tion of the Oats, but field mice had, and ran across the 

 path hurrying like urgent messengers, and once a mole 

 nosed its way from the earth by my stile and vanished 

 grumbling — like some gruff old gentleman — along the 

 hedgerow. I never saw a field laugh as much as that 

 field, or be so frivolous, or so feminine. The field at 

 my back was more like a great lady in a green velvet 

 gown, embroidered with Daisies. There, at the bottom 

 of the field, was a pond like a bright blue eye in the 

 green, and lazy cattle, red and white, stood in it, while 

 others lay under a chestnut tree near by. 



Down In the valley, a long undulating spread before 

 me, fields of different hues, some green, some brown, 

 some golden with ripe Corn, lay baked in the heat, 

 quivering under a calm blue sky. In one field a man 

 was sharpening a scythe with a whetstone — the rasp 

 came floating up to me clearly, and presently he began 

 to open a field of wheat for the reaping machine I could 

 see, with men round her, under a clump of trees. Next 

 to this field was a narrow strip of coarse grass all aglow 

 with Buttercups, then a wide triangular field, with a 

 pit in the corner of it, snowed over with Daisies, and 

 then a farm looking like a toy place, neat with white 

 painted railings, and a dovecote, and a long barn covered 

 over with yellow Stone Crop. I could see — all in 

 miniature — the farmer come out of his house door, 

 beckon to a dog, and walk past a row of Hollyhocks 

 and a flush of pink Sweet Williams, open the gate and 

 cross a road to the Corn-field. The dog leapt ahead of 

 him, barking joyously. 



24' 



