A SURREY RIVER. 119 



quiet at midnight in such places, even though there 

 be moonlight. The shadows move ; so do many- 

 other things, although nature is supposed to be 

 sleeping. The water agitates the flags and the 

 river-tangle; from time to time something moves 

 the tree-tops on the stillest night, ever so gently, 

 like a faint sigh. Then again all is silent. Even 

 the run of the water changes in its sound as it flows 

 over the shallower places : sometimes you hear the 

 ripple, ripple, plainly ; at others you hardly catch a 

 sound at all. Soon again it comes — ripple, ripple, 

 ripple. 



And now we pass through a little copse, and come 

 to a good old-fashioned stile : the top rail, which 

 runs well into the bank on each side, is merely a 

 large oak limb, worn to a polish by the friction of 

 leathern gaiters — generations of gaiters. 



The original use for these massive structures was 

 to keep the cattle from breaking bounds, and getting 

 in the woods. The banks were level with the top 

 rail, and strongly splashed down with the live boughs 

 of hazels and other growth. Many remain now, but 

 as they decay the present proprietors replace them 

 with iron gates. The cattle in the meadows that , 



