172 My Favourite Summer- Houses. 



little churchyard, and the old stocks by the main gate 

 as you enter or emerge. 



" Arcadia found at last for our reward ! 



The village lies in swathes of sunshine sweet ; 

 Green grass is soothing for the weary feet, 

 Even though it be too luscious burial sward. 



To maiden modesty what fit award ! 



The rose-trees year by year the tale repeat 

 Of young life ended pure, without defeat, 



Of hopes long cherished or a heart grown hard. 



And there what uncouth forms the glad eyes greet ? 

 Are these the stocks that once for penal pains 

 Familiar stood as warning to all swains 



Inclined too lightly other's rights to treat ? 

 They moulder now in parody of time 

 When this fair village had its petty crime." 



Then, if we will, we may pass by the Hammer — 

 sweet hamlet — on to Gomshall and home again. Who 

 can tell how much of the healthful effects of these 

 wanderings is due to the wonderful mixture of aromatic 

 scents — the resinous odour of the pines, the scents of 

 fern and whortleberry, of heath and beech, and oak 

 and elm ? 



And then, how often have I taken visitors down past 

 Coldharbour to the RedlandsWood — that delightful pine 

 wood — with its clumps and clusters, its waving ferns 

 and giant firs — one indeed a veritable monster, a mark 

 for miles round, rising high above his fellows — head 

 and shoulders over all — a very Saul among pine trees. 

 Often, often have I, pointing at this great tree from a 

 little distance, asked my companions — new to the place 

 — what their notions of his girth was, and would get 

 the most contradictory replies ; and as we neared and 

 neared the trunk of that tree, it appeared literally to 

 grow as we looked and came closer, till, to the surprise 



