296 NATURE IN DOWNLAND 



and down some hills, pausing from time to time to 

 take in a particularly fine prospect. 



These were the scenes familiar to him since his 

 childhood, amidst which he had lived with a few in- 

 tervals all his life. He told me that on three or four 

 occasions he had left home to better himself, and had 

 been absent from one to three years; but though he 

 could make more money at a distance, and had more 

 comforts, he had on each occasion felt himself com- 

 pelled to return, and he had now definitely abandoned 

 all idea of leaviag his native place again. He was 

 anxious to make me understand the character and 

 strength of the feeling that always drew him back; 

 and in a roundabout but singularly effective method 

 he succeeded very well. It was not any human tie 

 — it was the place. This, away from home, was his 

 experience. When he was hungry he enjoyed his 

 food, and when he was tired, rest was grateful. He 

 slept well, and always after a night's rest felt refreshed 

 and glad to begin the day's work, and his health 

 always and everywhere was remarkably good. But it 

 was all of no benefit: every feeling of comfort, of a 

 want reUeved, of satisfaction, of pleasure, was but 

 for a moment; it passed and left him stiU wanting, 

 wishing, waiting, for something else. It was like 

 the feeling a traveller has who is anxious to get to 

 the end of his journey. He might just as well have 

 been out of health, or out of work and penniless — 

 hungry, ill-clothed, and with an anxious mind. And 



