White's time. It is still a humble rural village. His 

 church, his house, the Hanger, Wolmer Forest, the 

 old yew, all remain. I spent two days there in June, 

 1882. The pictures of Mr. Johnson that illustrate 

 this edition, taken as they were from the actual 

 scenes, bring back the memory of my visit very viv- 

 idly. The stone that 

 marks White's grave 

 has only his initials 

 upon it. I could not 

 see any signs of its 

 being visited any of- 

 tener than the un- 

 known graves. At 

 the inn a copy of his 

 book was not to be 

 had. In a meadow 

 near the church the 

 haymakers, mostly 

 women, were at work. 

 A mother set her 

 baby down amid the 

 hay, where it cried 

 long and lustily while 

 she continued uncon- 

 cerned with her rake. 

 I walked amid the noble but dripping beeches of the 

 Hanger and along green lanes and across fields in 

 other directions. I saw and heard the black-cap 



Whitens orave. 



