216 Wrild Life in a Southern County. 
Sometimes both leap up together in the exuberance 
of their mirth. 
By the trunk of a mighty oak, growing out of 
the hedge that runs along the top of the field, the 
brambles and underwood are thinner, as is generally 
the case close under a tree; and it is easy to push 
through just there. On the other side, a huge root 
covered with deep green moss affords a pleasant seat, 
leaning back against the trunk. Upon the right, 
close by, is the ash copse, with its border of thick fir 
trees; on the left oaks at intervals stand along the 
hedge; in front stretches the undulating surface of an 
immense pasture field called The Warren. Like a 
prairie it rolls gently away, dotted with hawthorn 
bushes, here and there a crab tree, and two rows of 
noble elms, in both of which the rooks are busy in 
spring. Beyond, the ground rises, and the small 
upland meadows are so thickly timbered as to look 
like distant glades of a forest; still farther are the 
downs. 
Under this great oak in the stillness is a place to 
dream—in summer, looking upward into the vast ex- 
panse of green boughs, is an intricate architecture, an 
inimitable roof, whose lattice-windows are set with 
translucent /apis lazuli, for the deep blue of the sky 
seems to come down and rest upon it. The acorns 
are already there, as yet all cup, and little of the 
acorn proper showing; there is a tiny black speck on 
the top, and the young acorn faintly resembles some 
