9§ Wild Life in a Southern County 



illegible. Sometimes the second owner, too, goes, and the 

 name fresh painted is that of the third. When at last it 

 becomes too shaky for farm use, it is perhaps bought by 

 some poor working haulier, who has a hole cut in the bottom 

 with movable cover, and uses it to bring down flints from 

 the hills to mend the roads. But if any of the old folk 

 live, they will not sell the ancient vessel : it stands behind 

 the rickyard under the elms till the rain rots the upper 

 work, and it is then broken up, and the axletree becomes 

 the top bar of a stile. 



Each field has its characteristic stile — or rather two, 

 one each side (at the entrance and exit of the footpath), 

 and these are never alike. Walking across the fields for a 

 couple of miles or more, of all the stiles that must of neces- 

 sity be surmounted no two are similar. Here is one well 

 put together — not too high, the rail not too large, and 

 apparently an ideal piece of workmanship ; but on approach- 

 ing, the ground on the opposite side drops suddenly three 

 or four feet — at the bottom is a marshy spot crossed by a 

 narrow bridge of a single stone, on which you have to be 

 careful to alight, or else plunge ankle-deep in water. If 

 clever enough to drop on the stone, it immediately tilts 

 up slightly, for, like the rocking-stones of Wales, it is 

 balanced somewhere, and has a see-saw motion well calcu- 

 lated to land the timid in the ditch. 



The next is approached by a line of stepping-stones — 

 to avoid the mud and water — whose surfaces are so 

 irregular as barely to afford a footing. The stile itself is 

 nothing- 1 — very low and easy to pass : but just beyond it a 

 stiff, stout pole has been placed across to prevent horses 

 straying, and below that a couple of hurdles are pitched to 

 confine the sheep. This is almost too much ; however, by 

 patience and exertion, it is managed. Then comes a 



