Here In The Late Afternoon A Chilly Grey Haze Crept
Over The Country And Set Me Wishing For A Fireside And The
Sound Of Friendly Voices, And I Turned My Face Towards Beloved
Silchester.
Leaving the hills behind me I got away from the
haze and went my devious way by serpentine roads through a
beautiful, wooded, undulating country.
And I wish that for a
hundred, nay, for a thousand years to come, I could on each
recurring November have such an afternoon ride, with that
autumnal glory in the trees. Sometimes, seeing the road
before me carpeted with pure yellow, I said to myself, now I
am coming to elms; but when the road shone red and russet-gold
before me I knew it was overhung by beeches. But the oak is
the common tree in this place, and from every high point on
the road I saw far before me and on either hand the woods and
copses all a tawny yellow gold - the hue of the dying oak leaf.
The tall larches were lemon-yellow, and when growing among
tall pines produced a singular effect. Best of all was it
where beeches grew among the firs, and the low sun on my left
hand shining through the wood gave the coloured translucent
leaves an unimaginable splendour. This was the very effect
which men, inspired by a sacred passion, had sought to
reproduce in their noblest work - the Gothic cathedral and
church, its dim interior lit by many-coloured stained glass.
The only choristers in these natural fanes were the robins and
the small lyrical wren; but on passing through the rustic
village of Wolverton I stopped for a couple of minutes to
listen to the lively strains of a cirl-bunting among some farm
buildings.
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