MELLOW ENGLAND. 



!43 



tone and homely sincerity of all ; now dwelling fondly 

 upon the groups of neatly modeled stacks, then upon 

 the field occupations, the gathering of turnips and cab- 

 bages, or the digging of potatoes, — how I longed to 

 turn up the historic soil into .which had passed the 

 sweat and virtue of so many generations, with my own 

 spade, — then upon the quaint, old thatched houses, 

 or the cluster of tiled roofs, then catching at a church 

 spire across a meadow (and it is all meadow) or at the 

 remains of tower or wall overrun with ivy. 



Here, something almost human looks out at you from 

 the landscape ; nature here has been so long under the 

 dominion of man, has been taken up and lain down by 

 him so many times, worked over and over with his 

 hands, fed and fattened by his toil and industry, and 

 on the whole, has proved herself so willing and tract- 

 able, that she has taken on something of his image, 

 and seems to radiate his presence. She is completely 

 domesticated, and no doubt loves the titivation of the 

 harrow and plow. The fields look half conscious, and 

 if ever the cattle have " great and tranquil thoughts/' 

 as Emerson suggests they do, it must be when lying 

 upon these lawns and meadows. I noticed that the 

 trees, the oaks and elms, looked like fruit-trees, or as 

 if they had felt the humanizing influences of so many 

 generations of men, and were betaking themselves 

 from the woods to the orchard. The game is more 

 than half tame, and one could easily understand that it 

 had a keeper. 



