4 o MY LIFE 



a woodman was at work felling trees not far off, and this 



recalled another verse — 



" The Woodman's heart is in his work, 

 His axe is sharp and good: 

 With sturdy arm and steady aim 

 He smites the gaping wood; 

 From distant rocks 

 His lusty knocks 

 Re-echo many a rood." 



Leaving the avenue we crossed a large field, descending into 

 a lane in a hollow, whence a little further on a path led us 

 along the outside of Bayfordbury Park, the old oak palings 

 of which were well covered with lichen and ivy. Following 

 this path about a mile further by hedges and little brooks and 

 small woods, we came out into a sloping grass field of irregular 

 shape and almost entirely surrounded by woods, while little 

 streamlets, usually with high banks on one side and low 

 banks of gravel heaps on the other, offered the most enticing 

 places for jumping and for playing the exciting game of 

 follow-my-leader. This we called the racing-field; why I 

 never heard, as it was certainly not suited for horse-racing, 

 though admirably adapted for boyish games and sports. 

 When the boarders of the Grammar School came here, usually 

 accompanied by some of the day-scholars and in charge of 

 one of the masters, or ushers, as we then called them, this 

 was the end of our walk, and we were all free to amuse our- 

 selves as we liked till the hour fixed for our return. We then 

 broke up into parties. Some lay down on the grass to rest 

 or to read, some wandered into the woods bird-nesting, some 

 played leap-frog or other games. Here again in after years 

 when I read " The Dream of Eugene Aram," I always asso- 

 ciated it with our games in the racing field, although the 

 place described was totally unlike it — 



" Like sportive deer they coursed about, 

 And shouted as they ran — 

 Turning to mirth all things of earth, 



As only boyhood can; 

 But the Usher sat remote from all, 

 A melancholy man." 



