524 ’ FIELD AND HEDGEROW. 
3o+ 
and bluish shadows ; and beyond these was the uncertain 
vale that had no individuality, but the trees put their 
arms together and became one. All these were meadows, 
cvery step was among grass, beautiful grass, and the 
cuckoos sang as if they had found paradise. A hundred 
years ago a little old man with silver buckles on his 
shoes used to walk along this footpath once a week in 
summer, taking his children over to drink milk at the 
farm ; but though he set them every time to note the 
number of fields, so busy were they with the nests and 
the flowers, they could never be sure at the end of the 
journey whether there were eight or nine. To make 
quite sure at last, he took with them a pocket full of 
apples, one of which was eaten in cach field, and so they 
came to know for certain that the number of meadows 
was either eight or nine, I forget which ; and so you see 
this great experiment did not fix the faith of mankind. 
Like other great truths, it has grown dim, but it seems 
strange to think how this little incident could have been 
borne in mind fora century. There was another footpath 
that led through the peewit field, where the green plovers 
for evermore circle round in spring; then past the 
nightingale field, by the largest maple trees that grew in 
that country ; this too was all grass. Another led along 
the water to bluebell land; another into the coombs 
of the hills ; all meadows, which was the beauty of it ; 
for though you could find wheat in plenty if you liked, 
you always walked in grass. All round the compass 
you could still step on sward. This is rare. Of one 
other path I have a faded memory, like a silk marker in 
an old book; in truth, I don’t want to remember it 
except the end of it where it came down to the railway. 
So full was the mind of romance in those days, that I 
used to get there specially in time to sec the express go 
