274 FIELD AND HEDGEROW. 
the days go over noiselessly and without effort, like 
white summer clouds. Ridges each side rise high and 
heroically steep—it would be proper to set out and climb 
them, but not to-day, not now: some time presently. 
To the left massive Will’s Neck stands out in black 
shadow defined and distinct, like a fragment of night in 
the bright light of the day. The wild red deer lie there, 
but the mountain is afar; a sigh is all I can give to it, 
for the Somerset sun is warm and the lotus sweet. 
Yonder, if the misty heat moves on, the dim line of 
Dunkery winds along the sky, not unlike the curved back 
ofa crouching hare. The weight of the mountains is too 
great—what is the use of attempting to move? It is 
enough to look atthem. The day goes over like a white 
cloud ; as the sun declines it is pleasant to go into the 
orchard—the vineyard of Somerset, and then perhaps 
westward may be seen a light in the sky by the horizon 
as if thrown up from an immense mirror under. The 
mirror is the Severn sea, itself invisible at this depth, 
but casting a white glow up against the vapour in the 
air. By it you may recognise the nearness of the ‘sea. 
The thumb-nail ridges of the Quantocks begin to grow 
harder, they carry the eye along on soft curves like those 
of the South Downs in Sussex, but suddenly end in a 
flourish and point as if cut out with the thumb-nail. 
Draw your thumb-nail firmly along soft wood, and it will, 
by its natural slip, form such a curve. Blackbird and 
thrush commence to sing as the heavy heat decreases ; 
the bloom on the apple trees is loose now, and the black- 
bird as he springs from the bough shakes down flakes of 
blossom. 
Towards even a wind moves among the lengthening 
shadows, and my footsteps involuntarily seek the glen, 
where a streamlct trickles down over red flat stones which 
