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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mAthode. 1 2 3 4 5 a. ■^ 118 1 2.5 1^ '■■ ""i^ MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART NATIONAL BUREAU OF STANDARDS STANDARD REFERENCE MATERIAL 1010a (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) fc...r%> '^^^^""y^-^y ^ ""'^ I gj=^— 4^^ 'and TllK HKIDGK, WHKRK KVKRY ONE STOPS, AS BY INSTINCT, TO I, KAN OVKR THK RAILS." Ma psr Rii s 3 E LL M' t po i^d. TORONTO: Belfords, Clarke and Company. 1880. CHICAGO: KNIGHT i LEONARD, PRINTERS V^^,J^,,;^>^^;.0, •\>r^f\ ^^ m: The following pages contain an attenii>t to dulineate rocntry scenery and country manners, as they exist in a small village in the south of England. The writer may at least claim l!ie merit of a hearty love of her subject, and of that !<•( al and personal familiarity which only a 'ong r-.idence in one neighbourhood could have enabled her to attain. litr dcscriptioas have always been written on the spot and at the monunt, and in nearly every instance with the closest and most resolute fidelity to the i)lace and the people. If she be accused of having given a brigliter aspect to her villagers than is usually met with in books, siie cannot help it, and would not if she could. She has painted, as they appeared to her, their little frailties and their many virtues, under an intense and thankful conviction that in every condition of life goodness and happiness may be found by those who seek them, and never more surely than in the fresh air, the sli.idc, and the sunshine of nature. It may be well to notify that the selections in this volume consist principally of those portions specified in the original edition of 1824 as "Walks in the Country," — abounding in de- scriptive word-painting of country scenes, which has few equals in our language, and fully bearing out the loving enthusiasm for the task evinced in the jjreface. To rival such a pen with the pencil is no easy task; but it is hoped that the si)irit of the authoress has been fairly rendered by the artists engaged, whose patience and studious care the pro- jector takes this opportunity of acknowledginq. London, 1879. Our Nii.LAGE Fno&T . . . . TflAW .... The First Primrose ViOLETING - - - The Cowslip-Ball 'I'HE Hard Summer - Nutting - . - . The Visit ... The Copse The Wood ... The Dell The Old House at Aberleigh The Shaw Hannah Bint The Fall of the Leaf 9 35 47 49 59 67 81 97 105 "3 '39 •47 159 169 '83 «9S H^- AKUANGKIi AM) ENGRAVED BY JAMES D. CDOPF.K. SUBJECT. The LcKldon - - . . Titlc-pajjc - - . . . Portrait of Marv F^ussell Mitford Heading to Pretare Heading to Contents - Tail-piece - - - . . Heading to List of Illustrations Tail-piece - - . . . Ash tree — lieading iS<|iiirre! and birds " The tidy, square, red cottage on the right hand " ■' He hangs over his gate" The shoemaker "She likes flowers, too" • The blacksmith The little parlour - . . . Our cottage - . . .. White cat among the geraniums The Rose inn - . . . AK t rST. |'ac;r. W. H.J. Moor /•'mii/ii/tirce u TitU a//er Haydon 11 - W. H.J. Hour 5 tt 7 ti 8 U 9 t» H 14 15 it i6 id" I? *i i8 C. O. Ml RRAY 19 .i 20 ti 30 - W.H.J. Hoot 31 " 33 • C. O. MlRRAY 22 W. H.J. Hour 33 r^'ji- lO L/ST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. SUBJP.CT. Miss Pliccbe and the serjeant " Come ! " " Pictures(iiie wheeler's shop" " Rebuke a sqiialling child " ISov on the gate Joliii Evans pruning " Such a thorn!" Lizzy and Mav romping The Green Coninion lloar-lrost Wai{gon in the snow The slide - Tlie lieutenant skating Avenue of oaks - The deep lane Kingfishers Blackbird at the window Brainble and holly The inundation Gabbling ducks - Windy Marcli weather The rural bridge - Rachel Hilton " Danghng stockings and shirts, swelled by the wind " A country house .... "Tears her pretty feet by vain scratchings" " Li\ ing again in the clear 'right pool" Primroses gathered ... "A dull grey morning" " Swallows haunt that pond " - " Sheep and beautiful lambs" Bean-setter .... ARTIST. I'ACH. . C. O. MlRRAY ^4 u 2.S . W. H. J. Boot 26 C. O. Murray 27 - W.H.J. Boot 28 C. O. Murray 29 . W. H. J. Boot 30 C. O. Murray 3> - W. H. J. Boot ,33 ti 35 ^ (( 36 C. O. Murray 39 (1 41 W. H.J. Boor 42 ii 43 (( 44 • ** 45 41 46 " 47 It 48 U 49 t( 51 C. O. Murray 52 d" W. H.J. Boot ^i It 54 C. O. Murray 55 . W. H. J. Boot 56 II 58 ii 59 It 60 ti 62 II 62 L/ST OF fLr.USTRAT/Oi\S. II SUBJECT. An old larm-hDUse - Tlie violet bank - Gathered violets Cowslips ... Cows in the yard A c;iniiic flirtation The liieksy rivulet • "(Jill pollaiils uieatlied with ivy Cowslip-ball ■ The cuckoo Lizzy after the butterfly The passiui; storm By the lireside "Cold, cloudy, windv, wet" The dusty road Hollyhocks Cricket Joe Kirby Jem Eusden - The little hussar • "What a train of rosy lif;ht! Dipping al the well ... " Hij;li elms will shut out the little twilight' Return from the wheat-fleld Nut-leaves - . - . . Cottage, planted at the corner of a lane Apple-gathering .... Nutting - - . . . May and the nuts - . . . liasket of nuts - . . . Aulmnn ride . . . Sulkv horse - - . . \V. 11. ] MCM.T f'.? (t ('S (( 60 ti 67 41 r.s C. O. MlKRAV >") W. 11. J. lioui 7« " 72 C. O. Ml Ruw 74 " 7.S (1 76 W. H.J. Hoot 79 il So ti Si It 83 " ^4 C. O. Ml kkay «.S it 86 %i 87 (( 89 W. U.}. Hoot 90 C. O. Ml UK w '>^ W. 11. J. li.M.T ■'4 C. (). MUKU.W ./. W. 11. J. Hnor 97 It 98 C. O. Murray W " \Oi ft 103 \V. II. J. H,„,T '"4 " i".S C. O. .Mlkii.w 106 12 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIOXS. SITJKCT. Sunset from the liill . . . . Bcti Kirhy at sdiool .... Cliililron round the bonfire - • - . Rookery --..-. llorse-clicslnuts . . . . . Village elunch ..... "Miinini;i! niainma!" . . . , 'J"1k' confjice roaii .... " The l.uly ol the noocis" . . . . The lerr:ice liis ..... The trio ...... Convolvulus ..... Skirts of the thieket . . . . Saladin, Hiindle, and May "Clear stream, windinj,' between clumps of elms" Mrs. Sally Mearing .... No matrimony . . . . . Poor Jane Davis ..... I, ami) at bay ---... Saladin repentant .... Sujierl) ash tree . , . . . Wood pigeons ..... Oak branch ...... Clouds and sunshine .... Saladin and the gander . . . . The tall elms ..... Gathering wood-sorrel . . . . May and the hedge-hog .... 'J'imher ..... 'I'he woodman ..... " Portentous grandeur" ... Cornfield that leads to the dell - ,\K Tisr. I'AOK. W. H. J. Hoot io8 C. O. Ml KKAY III 4i 113 \S. H. J. Hoot "4 11 ii6 ti "7 C. O. MlKKAY iiS W. II. J. I!(.()T I '9 " I20 (1 121 C. O. Murray '-3 W. II.J. Boot 124 (( 12,S C. O. Ml RRAY 1J7 W. II. J. Door i:!8 C. O. Ml RRAY 1-9 ({ 13^ ti 133 t( '34 11 1.36 W. II. J. Hoot '.^7 C. O. Ml RRAY '39 W. II.J. Hoot 140 (( 141 C. O. Murray 142 W. H.J. HcoT 143 C. O. Murray 144 41 14s It 146 " 148 \V. II.J. Hoot 150 ii '51 /, AV •/• OF n. I. ( .v Th'A IK J.V.S-. i;. Sl'llJECT. Old bliml Robert Tliedoll - Ewe iiiul lamb Moor-liens Mr. Allen in the orclianl Mrs. Allen leeding the poultry- Pet baiilani - Sunset on the I^oiKlon ".Shade of tliose balinv fir.s" The bridfje OKI ruined mansion - Ki.sh pond Ciatlierint; roses Old boat-house View Ironi the window "A bright suiishinv afternoon " Stray dog bei,'ging - Mav and Dash Painting the waggon " Daddy, come home!" - Gnorge Coper " Harvest Home!" Canine recognition - Ivy The Shaw - "A clear pond " - Hannah Hint milking Watch - Poor Jack The farmer's gitt Casket-making Neptune ... AKTIST. rAOK. C. (). Ml KKAY '.s- W. \\,\. Huor '.vj C. (.). Ml KK.W '.s'> ti i.r. it 15S 11 ^9) II i()i w. II. J. n.H.T iCj " "'.? it ">,s tt if)6 " I6S C. O. Mt KUAV KV \V. H.J. H.M.r 170 it '71 ■' '7,? C. O. Ml KKAY 17.S tt .76 W. II. J. H.Hir 17S C. O. .Ml KKAY iS.) " |SJ it '\5 " 1S5 W. 11. J. lioor 186 11 1S7 It 1 89 C. O. Ml KKAV 190 " 191 tt 192 tt 194 It "J."; tt 198 "4 Sl'llJKCT. L/SI' OF /Lf.USrRATJOXS. Fall of the leaf The lane • The po.st-bov Chililrc'ii at the well Dash ami the phca-aiit 'i'lie pai-k (l,ip])lctl with itcci- The iiiessai,'o - CauL'ht ill the shower VV. W.J. B( C. O. Ml W. H.J. Boor C. O. Ml KRAV 199 202 203 204 206 ^':^^%^ delightful is a littk- vill;ige far in V the country; a small nt'it^hbourhood, not of fine mansions fiuL-ly [)eo[)letl, but of cottaj^cs and cottage-like houses, "messuages or tenements," as a frien>' of mine calls sue h ignoble and nondescript dwellings, with in- Si. habitants whose faces are as familiar to us ^ as the (lowers in our gardens; a little world of our own, close-packed and insulated like ■f^-i'CT- ants in an ant-tiill,or bees in a hive, or sheep in a fold, or nuns in a convent, or sailors in a ship; where we know every one, are known to every one, interested in every one, and authorised to hoi)e that every one feels an interest in us. How pleasant it is to slitle into these true-hearted feelings from the kin''f\V,-^"C >'.'■' t-t- -Mj. m: 'X--M^i,^ pint. On the other hand, nothing is so delightful as pC'-}%' to sit down in a country village in one of Miss Austen's delicious novels, (piite sure before we leave it to be- ronie intimate with every spot and every person it contains; or to ramble with Mr. White over his own parish of Selborne, and form a friendship with the fields and coi.pices, as well as with the birds mice, and squirrels, who inhabit them; or to sail with Robinson Crusoe to his island, and live there with him and his goats and his man Friday; — how much we dread any new comers, any fresh im- portation of savage or sailor! we never sympathise for a moment in our hero-s want of company, and are quite grieved when he gets away; — or to be shipwrecked with Ferdinand on that other lovelier island-the island of Prospero, and Miranda, and Caliban, and Ariel, and nobody el.se, none of Dryden's e.xotic inventions :-that is best of all. And a small neighbourhood is as good in sober waking reality as in poetry or j.rose; a village neighbourhood, such as this Berkshire liamlet in which I write, a long, straggling, winding street at the bot- tom of a fine eminence, with a road through it, always abounding in ( >6) f>r/i' \ ii.iuii:. 17 (iirts, horsemen, and < arriajjcs, and lately enlivened hy a stage-c uatli from M 10 S , which passed through about ten days ago, and will, I suppose, return some time or other. 'I'here are < ()a< hes of all varieties nowadays; perhaiis this may be intended for a monthly dili- gence, or a fo tnightly fly. Will you walk with me throu^;h our village, courteous reader? The journey is not long. We will begin al tho lower end, and pro( eed up the hill. The tidy, square, red cottage on the right hand, with the long, well- stocked garden by the side of the road, belongs to a retired publican from a neighbouring town; a su])stantial person with a comely wife; 1 8 OCh' \ n.l.M.E f'/7i' \ III. K.i: ao ()( R \ III Mil '•;■( :>5 Sic Iht nil ;i Simd.iv in liir siiii|ili( ity and luT while tmrk, ami slu' might pass tor an earl's daiinhtcr. She likes llowcrs, 1(1(1, and has a iinifiision ol' white slo( ks under lier window, as pure and delii ate as her«'lf. ■{'he Inst house on the opposite side of the way is the hhu ksmitli's ; a nlooiny dwelling, where the sun never seems to shine: dark and smoky within and with- - oiil, like a forge. The Mai ksinilh is a high ofilicer in our little stale, nothing less than a constable; but alas! alas! when tumults arise, and tlu' < (instable is called for, he will ( (iminonly be found in the thickest of the fray. I.iuky would it be for his wife and her eight children if there were no publie- liouse in the land : an inveterate im linalion to enter those bewitch- ing doors is Mr. Constable's only fault. Next to this ofirtri '1 dwellini' is ,i spruce brick tenement, re', liigh, 1 ib Vv- another, i nei- sash-windows, the oiih ~ ,•.!). i-.i.dows in the village, with a clematis on one side and a rose on the other, tall and nar- row like itself. That slender mansion has .i fine genteel look. The little parlour seems made for Hogarth's old maid and lier stunted footboy ; for tea and card parties, — it would just hold one talile; for the rustle of faded silks, and the splendour of old china; for the delight of four 'by honours, and a little snug, fpiiet scandal between the deals; for and narrow, boastini' ('/ '/ / 21 iillft icii nontility and real st.nvatioi!. (Ifstiny, '111 late has been unpropiiious ; i' 1 liiistling lino, with fi)iir fat, rosy, noisy » viilnarit\ ind plenty. s, uid liavc licel) Its '•nj^s to a plump, nu-iry. II, the viTv cssfiK 1 t)i 'I'hen i-oincs ti vilhij^e siiop like otlier village shops, niiillitarii'iis as a bazaar; a rcj isitory for bread, shoes, tea, cheese, tape, ribands, and bacon; for evrything, in short, e.\< opt the one particular tliinj^ whicli you happen to want at the uiouient and will he sure not to find. I'he people a/e civil and thrivinj^, and fruj^al withal ; they have let tlie upi)er part of their house to two younj; women (one of them is a jiretty blue-eyed j.!rl)wh() teach little ( hildren their A \) (".and make caps and gown for their mammas, — parcel schoolmistress, i)ar- cel mantua-maker. I believe they tmd adornini; the body a mute profitable vocation than adorning the mind. Divided from the shop by a narrow yard, and opposite the shoe- maker's, is a habitation of whose inmates I shall say nothing. A cot- tage — no — a miniature house, with manv additions, little odds and :,-K.^'."-!^k^' ,-V^"«,"- ends lit ])l;uL's, pantries, and wliat not; all angles, and of a charming in-anil-outness ; a little bricked court before one half, and a little llower-vard before the other; the wails, old and weather stained, cov- ered with hollyhocks, roses, honeysuckles, and a great apricot-tree; the casements full of geraniums; (ah, there is our su[)erb white cat l)eeping out from among them!) the closets (our landlord has the assurance to call them rooms) full of contrivances and corner-cup- boards; antl the little garden behind full of common flowers, tulips, pinks, lark- spurs, i)eonies, stocks and carnations, with an arbour of privet, not unlike a sentry- box, where one lives in a delicious green light, and looks out on the gayest of all gay llower-beds. That house was built on l)urpose to show in what an exceedingly small compass comfort may be packed. Well, I will loiter there no longer. Ol N \ II.I.U.E. ^.1 'I'lu' next tenement is a i>la(e of inipoitanie, tlte Rose inn ; a white- washed hiiihling, retired from the road beliind its fine swinging,' si(,'n, with a Httle bow-window room roming out on one siile, and tonuinj;, with our stable on the other, a sort of open s(nuire. wliii li is tlie c on- stant resort of carts, waggons, and return ( haises. There are two carts there now, and mine host is serving tiiem with lieer in liis eter- nal red waistcoat. He is a thriving man, and a portly, as his waist- coat attests, which has been twice let out witiiin this twelvemonth. Our landlord has a stirring wife, a hopeful son, anil a daughter, the belle of the village; not so pretty as the fair nymph at the shoe-shop, and far less elegant, but ten times as fme ; all curl-papers in the morning, like a porcupine, all curls in the afternoon, like a poodle, with more flounces than curl-papers, and more lovers than curls. Miss PJHL'be is fitter for town than country; and, to do her justice, she has a consciousness of that litness, and turns her steps townwanl H 24 OUli \/L/.A(iE. as often as she can. She is gone to H to-day with her last and l)rin( ipai lover, a recruiting Serjeant — a man as tali as Serjeant Kite and as impudent. Some day or otlier he will carry off Miss Phcebe. In a line with the bow- window room is a low garden-wall, 1 ..-''Miging to a house under repair: — the white house opposite the collar-make! 's siiop, with four lime-trees before it, and a waggon-load of bricks at the door. That house is the play- thing of a wealthy, well-meaning, whimsical |)erson, who lives about a mile off He has a ])assion for brick and mortar, and being too wise to meddle with his own residence, diverts himself with altering and re-altering, im- proving and rc-improving, doing and undoing here. It is a perfect Pene- lope's web. Carpenters and bricklayers have been at work for these eighteen months, and yet I sometimes stand and wonder whether anything has really been done. One exploit in last June was, however, by no means equivocal. Our good neighbour fancied that the limes shaded the rooms, and made them dark, (there was not a creature in the house but the workmen,) so he had all the leaves stripped from every tree. There they stood, poor miserable skele- tons, as bare as Christmas under the glowing midsummer sun. Nature revenged herself, in her own sweet and gracious manner; fresh leaves sprang out, and at nearly Christmas the foliage was as brilliant as when the outrage was committed. Next door lives a cari)enter, "famed ten miles round, and worthy all his fame," — few cabinet-makers surpass him, with his excellent wife, and their little daughter Lizzy, the plaything and queen of the oi'h' vu.i..u;e. 2^^ village, a child tliree years old according to tin- rcgi>tci-, but si\ m size and strength and intellect, in i)ower and in self-will. She nian- ages everybody in the place, her schoolmistress included; turns the wheeler's children out of their own little cart, and makes them draw her; seduces cakes and lollypops from the very shop window; makes tin- lazy carrv her, the silent talk to her, the grave romi) with her; does anything she pleases; is ab^o- lutelv irresistible. Her ( hief attraction lu-s m her exceed- ing power of loving, and livr firm reliance on the love and indulgence of others. V^^f', How impossible it would i'l '•', be to disapijoint the JjS [ dear little girl when she ^ runs to meet vou, slides ''% her pretty hand into yours, looks up gladly in your face, and says, "Come ! " \'ou must go; you cannot help it. Another i)art of her charui is her singular beauty. Together with a good deal of the character of Napoleon, she has something of his s(piare, sturdy, upright form, with the finest limbs in the world, a complexion purely English, a round laughing face, sunburnt and rosy, large merry blue eyes, curling brown hair, and a wonderful play of counte- nance. She has the imperial attitudes too, and loves to stand with her hands behind her, or folded over her bosom; and sometimes, , : I 26 OlfN \ILI..U,li. wliLMi she lias a little touch of shyness, sl)c clasps them to.nether on the top of her head, pressing down her shining curls, and looking so e.\(|uisitely pretty ! Ves, I,i/zy is (pieen of the village I She has but one rival in her dominions, a certain white greyhound called May- flower, much iier friend, who resembles her in beauty and strength, in playfulness, and almost in sagacity, and reigns over the animal world as she over the human. They are both coming with nie, i.izzv and J.i/zy's " pretty May." We are now at the end of the street ; a cross- lane, a rope-walk, shaded with limes and oaks, and a cool clear pond overhung with elms, lead us to the bottom of the hill. There is still one house round the corner, ending in a picturesque wheeler's shop. The dwelling-house is more ambitious. Look at the fine flowered window-blinds, the green door with the brass knocker, and the some- wliat |)rim but very civil person, who is sending off a lal)ouring man with sirs and curtsies enough for a prince of the blood. Those are in his wife's best liandkerchief ! — or to hear him rebuke a scpialling child or a stjuabbling woman I The curate is nothing to him. He is fit to be perpetual ( hurchwarden. We must now cross the lane into the shady rope-walk. 'I'hat pretty white cottage opposite, whi(;h stands straggling at the end of the village in a garden full of flowers, belongs to our mason, the 28 ovu vii.L.uu:. shortest of men, and his handsome, tall wife: he, a dwarf, with the voice of a giant; one starts when he begins to talk as if he were shouting throiigli a speaking trumpet ; she, the sister, daughter, and grand-daughter, of a long line of gardeners, and no contemptible one herself It is very magnanimous in me not to hate her; for she beats mc in my own way, in chrysanthemums, and dahlias, and the like gauds. Her plants are sure to live; mine have a sad trick of dying. perhaps because I love them, "not wisely, but too well," and kill them with over-kindness. Half-way up the hill is another detached cottage, the residence of an officer, and his beautiful family. That eldest hoy, who is hanging over the gate, and looking with such intense childish admiration at my Lizzy, might be a model for a Cupid. How pleasantly the road winds up the hill, with its broad greer. borders and hedge-rows so thickly timbered ! How finel\ the evening Or/C \ ll.l..U,l: 29 a i)retty picture tliey would make; wliul a i)rctty lorcground they do make to tlie real landsra])c' ! Tlit' roatl winding down llie liill witli a siiglit bend, like that in tlie liigh-strcet at Oxford; a waggon slowly ascending, and a horseman jiassing it at a tall tro' — (ah! I, i/zy, May- dower will certainly desert you to have a gambol with that blood- horse ! ) half-way down, just at the turn, the red (ottage of the lieutenant, covered with vines, the very image of comfort and con- tent; farther down, on the o|)j)osite side, the small white dwelling of the little mason; then the limes and tlu' rope-walk; then the village street, jjceping through the trees, whose clustering to})s hide all but the chimneys, and various roofs of the houses, and lu're and there some angle of a wall; farther on, the elegant town of 11 — , with its fine old church-towers and spires; the wIkjIc view shut in by a range of chalky hills; and over every part of the picture, trees so profusely scattered, that it ap|)ears like a woodland scene, with glades and vil- t 31 I 3^ i>i /,' \ iLi..u,h:. lagcs intt-ri/iixed. The- trees are of all kituls and all hues, chiefly the (inely-sha|.ed elm. of so deep and bright a green, the tips of whose high outer branches drop down with such a crisp and garland-like richness, and tiie oak, whose stately form is just now so splendidly adorned by the sunny < oioiiring of the voung leaves. Turning again up the hill, we find ourselves on that peculiar charm of English scenery, a green common, divided by the road; the right side fringed by hedge-rows and trees, with (otiages and farm-houses irregularly I)laced, and terminated by a double avenue of noblj oaks; the left, I)rettier still, (!ap,.i, d by bright pools of water, and isands of cottages and cottage-gardens, and sinking gradually down to corn-fields and meadows, and an old farm-house, with jioinled roofs and clustered • himneys, looking out from its blooming orchard and backed by woody hills. 'I'he common is itself the prettiest i)art of the prospect ; half covered with low furze, whose golden !)lossoms reflect so intensely the last beams of the setting sun, and alive with cows and sheep, and two sets of ( ri( keters; one of young men, surrounded by spectators, some standing, some sitting, some stret. bed on the grass, all taking a delighted intere:n in the game; the other, a merry grouj) of little boys, at a humble distance, for whom even cricket is scarcely lively enough, shouting, leaping, and enjoying themselves to their hearts' content, liiil ( rickeleis and country boys are too important persons in our vil- lage to be talked of merely as figures in the land.scape. 'I'hey deserve an indivi 'ual introduction —an essay to themselves — and they shall I'ave it. No fear of forgetting the good-humoured faces that meet us in our walks everv dav. «^ A (IKKKN (OMMON, DIVIDKD MV 1111. JroAI 1. I FJiOST. January 23rd. — At noon to-day I and my white greyhound, May- flower, set out for a walk into a very l)caiitilul world, — a sort of silent fairy-land, — a creation of that matchless magician the hoar-frost. There had been just snow enough to cover the earth and all its colours with one sheet of pure and uniform white, and just time enough since the snow had fallen to allow the hedges to be freed of their fleecy load, and clothed with a delicate coating of rime. 'I'he atmosphere was. deliciously calm ; soft, even mild, in spite of the tiiermometcr ; no per- ceptible air, but a stillness that might almost be felt; the sky, rather grey than blue, throwing out in bold relief the snow-covered roofs of our village, and the rimy trees that rise above them, and the sun shin- ing dimly as through a veil, giving a pale fair light, like the moon, only brighter. There was a silence, too, that might become the moon, as we stood at our little gate, looking up the quiet street ; a sabbath-like ( 35 ) 36 OVR \- 1 1. 1. Mil:. Vk 1 pause of work and play, rare on a work-day ; nolliing was audible but the pleasant lumi of frost, that low monotonous souiul, which is perhaps the nearest approach that life and nature can make to absolute silence. 'l"he very wagj^ons as they come down tiie hill along the lieaten track of crisp yellowish frost-dust glide along like shadows; even May's bounding footsteps, at her height of glee and of speed, fall like snow upon snow. Hut we shall have noise enough presently: May lias stopped at Lizzy's door; and Lizzy, as she sat on the window-sill with her bright rosy face laughing through the casement, has seen her and disappeared. She is coming. No ! The key is turning in the door, and sounds of orU \ II.I.M.E 37 evil omen issue through thekey-liolc — sturdy "lot me outs," and "I will goes," mixed witii shrill tries on May and on me from I, i//.y, piercing through a tow continuous harangue, of which the prominent jiarts are apologies, cliill)lains, sliding, broken Ijones, ioUyiiops, rods, and ginger- bread, from Lizzy's careful mother. "Don't scratcii the door. May! Don't roar so, my I-izzy ! We'll call for you as we come back." — " I'll go now ! Let me out ! 1 will go ! " are the last words of Miss Li//v. Mem. Not to spoil that child — if I can help it. lint 1 do think her mother might have let the ])Oor little soul walk with us to-day. Nothing worse for children than coddling. Nothing better for chilblains tlian exercise. Besides, I don't believe she has any — and as to breaking her bones in sliding, I don't suppose there's a slide on the common. These murmuring cogitations have brouglit us up the liill.and half-wav across the light and airy common, witii its bright expanse of snow and its clusters of cottages, whose turf fires send such wreaths of smoke sail- ing up the air, and diffuse such aromatic fragrance round. And now comes the delightful sound of childish voi< es, ringing with glee and merriment almost from beneath our feet. .Ah, l.i/zy, vour mother was right ! They are shouting from that deep irregular jiool, all glass now, where, on two long, smooth, liny slides, half a do/en ragged urchins are slipping along in tottering triumph Half a dozen ste])s bring us to the bank right above them. May can hardly resist the temjUation of joining her friends, for most of the varlets are of her accjuaintance, esi)eciall v the rogue who leads the slide, — he with the brimless hat, whose bronzed complexion and white flaxen hair, reversing the usual lights and shad- ows of the human countenance, give so strange and foreign a look to his flat and comic features. This hobgoblin, ]m\^ Rapley by name, is May's great crony ; and she stands on the brink of the steep, irregular descent, her black eyes fixed full upon him, as if slie intended him the favour of jumping on his head. She does : she is down, and upon him: but Jack Rapley is not easily to be kno( ked off his feet, He ff 3H OUli VILI.ACIi. saw her coming, and in the moment of her leap sprung dexterously off the slide on the rough ice, steadying himself by the shoulder of the next in tiie file, which unlucky follower, thus unexpectedly checked in his career, fell plumi) backwards, knocking down the rest of the line like a nest of card-houses. There is no harm dcme ; but there they lie, roaring, kicking, sprawling, in every attitude of comic distress, whilst Jack Rapley and Mayllower, sole authors of this calamity, stand apart from the throng, fondling, and cocpietting, and complimenting each other, and very visibly laughing. May in her black eyes, Jack in his wide close-shut mouth, and his whole monkey-face, at their com- rades' mischances. I think. Miss May, you may as well come up again, and leave Master Rapley to fight your battles. He'll get out of the scrape. He is a rustic wit — a sort of Robin Goodfellow — the sauci- est, idlest, cleverest, best-natured boy in the parish; always foremost in mischief, and always ready to do a good turn. Tiie sages of our village i)redict sad things of Jack Rapley, so that I am sometimes a little ashamed to confess, before wise people, that I have a lurking predilection for him (in common with other naughty ones), and that I like to hear him talk to May almost as well as she does. "Come, May! " and up she springs, as light as a bird. The road is gay now ; carts and post-chaises, and girls in red cloaks, and, afar off, looking almost like a toy, the coach. It meets us fast and soon. How much happier the walkers look than the riders — especially the frost-bitten gentle- man, and the shivering lady with the invisible face, sole passengers of that commodious machine ! Hooded, veiled, and bonneted as she is, one sees from lier attitude how miserable she would look uncovered. Another pond, and another noise of children. More sliding ? Oh, no! This is a sport of higher pretension. Our good neighbour, the lieutenant, skating, and his own pretty little boys, and two or three other four-year-old elves, standing on the brink in an ecstasy of joy and wonder ! Oh, what happy spectators ! And what a happy performer ! KNOCKING DOWN THK KEST OF THE LINE LIKK A NKST OK CARD-HOUSES." p orix' VII.I.M.H. 41 'I'liey admiring, he admired, with an ardour and sincerity never ex( ited by all the quadrilles and the spread-eagles of the Seine and the Ser- pentine. He really skates well though, and 1 am glad I came this way ; for, with all the father's feelings sitting gaily at iiis heart, it must Mill gratify the pride of skill to have one spectator at tiiat :;olitary pond who has seen skating before. Now we have reached the fees,— the beautiful trees! never so beautiful as to-dav. Imagine the effect of a straight and regular doul)le avenue of oaks, nearly a mile long, arching over-head, and closing mto perspective like the roof and columns of a cathedral, every tree and branch incrusted with the bright and delicate congelation of hoar-frost, white and pure as snow, delicate and defined as carved ivory. How beautiful it is, how uniform, how various, how filling, how satiating to t^e eye and to the mind-above all, how melancholy ! There is a thrilling awfulness, an intense feeling of simple power, in that naked and colour- less beauty, which falls on the heart like the thought of death-death pure, and glonous, and smiling, but still death. Sculpture has always (43 ) the same effect on my imag- ination, and painting never. Colour is life. We are now at tlie end of tliis magnificent avenue, and at the top of a steep eminence commanding a wide view over four counties — a landscape of snow. A deep lane leads abruptly down tlie hill; a mere nar- row cart-track, sinking between high banks clothed with fern and furze and low broom, crowned with luxuriant hedgerows, and famous for their summer-smell of thyme. How lovely these banks are now! (43 ) 44 oru \ii.i..uii:. the tall weeds and the gorse fixed and stiffened in the hoar-frost which fringes round the l.right pri.kly holly, the pendant foliage of the bramble, and the deep orange leaves of the pollard oaks ' Oh this ,s nine ,n its loveliest form ! And there is still a berry here and there on the holly, "blushing in its natural coral" through the deli- cate tracery, still a stray hip or haw for the small birds, who abound here always. The poor birds, how tame they are, how sa.Ily tame ' 1 here is the beautiful and rare crested wren, " that shadow of a bird " as White of Selborne calls it, perched in the middle of the hedge nestling as it were amongst the cold bare boughs, seeking, poor pretty ;!■ thing, for the warmth it will not find. And there, farther on, just under the bank, by the slender runlet, which still trickles between its transparent fantastic margin of thin ice, as if it were a thing of life - there, with a swift, scudding motion, flits, in short low flights, the gor- geous icingfisher, its magnificent plumage of scarlet and blue flashing >n the sun, like the glories of some tropical bird. He is come for water to this little spring by the hill-side,-water which even his long b.ll and slender head can hardly reach, so nearly do the fantastic forms of those garland-like icy margins meet over the tiny stream be- oClx' 17/./. \(,l- 45 neath. It is rarely tliat one sees tlie shy beauty so closi- or so lon^ ; and it is pleasant to see him in tiie t^race and In' itily ol" liis natural liberty, the only way to look at a bird. We iises, and do aw ay their mistrust. First eanie the more soeial tribes, tlie roliui reil-breast and the wren," cautiously, suspiciously, picking up a crumb on the wing, with tiie little keen bright eye fixetl on the window ; then they would stoj) for two jiecks; then stay till they were satisfied. The shyer birds, tamed by their exami)le, came next ; and at last one saucy fellow of a blackbird — a sad glutton, he would ( k'ar the board in two minutes, — used to tap his yellow bill against the wiiulow for more. Flow we loved the fearless confidence of that line, frank- hearted creature! And surely he loved us. I wonder the jirartice is not more general. — "May! May! naughty May!" She has frightened away the kingfisher; and now, in her (oaxing penitence, she is cov- ering me with snow. "Come, |)retty .\Iay! it is time to go home." ^? I January aStli.— \Vc iiave had rain, and snow, and frost, and rain again; four days of al)solute connneinent. Now \l is a tiiaw and a flood; hut our ligiU gravelly soil, and country hoots, and country hardihood, will carry us through. What a dripping, comfortless day it is! just like the last days of N()veml)er: no sun, no sky, grey or lilue; one low, overhanging, dark, dismal cloud, like London smoke : Mayflower is out coursing too, and [,izzy gone to school. Never mind. Up the hill again! Walk we must. Oh what a watery world to look hack upon ! Thames, Kennct, Loddon — all overflowed; our famous town, inland once, turned into a sort of Venice; C. park converted into an island; and the long range of meadows from B. to W. one huge -irM.atural lake, with trees growing out of it. Oh what a watery world !— I will look at it no longer. I will walk on. The road is alive again. Noise is re-horn. Waggons creak, horses plash, carts rattle, and pattens paddle through the dirt with more than their usual clink. The conmion has its old fine tints of green and hrown, and its old variety of inhahitants, horses, cows, sheep, pigs, and donkeys. The ponds are unfrozen, (47 ) (> mc 48 ex< ci>l wlieri- some upon the water ; rei)lated llie lieiittnan dark, llie liedges are dripping, ( U I//./.I''/' lani lioiy i)ie( e ol nieliinn i< c an( 1 cackling neese and Kabhlini; I and Ja. k Rapley. 'I'l'e avenue is llo.its sullenly (hu ks have ■hilt and the lanes knee-deei>, and all nature is in a st iite