n6 FROM SPRING TO FALL. 



over a gate leading into a large field, beyond which 

 other fields lie, until in the distance the spire of 

 the village church shows through some trees, I 

 can pick out quite a large covey feeding in the 

 short stubble — the corn having been cut and car- 

 ried very early this exceptionally hot season. There 

 they are, — my glass brings them quite near enough 

 for me to watch them ; they are confidently feeding. 

 Half opening the gate, I let it slam to ; and then 

 I see a repetition of the same old tactics they 

 followed in my boyhood. That fine covey melts 

 away as it were completely, a few shadows show 

 here and there, and the birds have disappeared. 



There is no occasion to hurry, and the view is 

 very pleasing, so I remain, studying the distant 

 hills, with the faint track of the Pilgrims' Way 

 showing at the base of some of them. It is lost 

 here and there, where copse and furze patches 

 spread themselves. It shows faintly farther on, 

 to fade away again in the distance. Much of that 

 way can still be easily traced, and some of the 

 fords over the river that the pilgrims passed over 

 on their way to Becket's shrine at Canterbury 

 are remaining to this day. 



