I Cannot Think How The Distant Thatched Houses Came To Stand Out With Such Clear Definition And Etched Outline And Bluish Shadows; And Beyond These Was The Uncertain Vale That Had No Individuality, But The Trees Put Their Arms Together And Became One.

All these were meadows, every step was among grass, beautiful grass, and the cuckoos sang as if they had found paradise.

A hundred years ago a little old man with silver buckles on his shoes used to walk along this footpath once a week in summer, taking his children over to drink milk at the farm; but though he set them every time to note the number of fields, so busy were they with the nests and the flowers, they could never be sure at the end of the journey whether there were eight or nine. To make quite sure at last, he took with them a pocket full of apples, one of which was eaten in each field, and so they came to know for certain that the number of meadows was either eight or nine, I forget which; and so you see this great experiment did not fix the faith of mankind. Like other great truths, it has grown dim, but it seems strange to think how this little incident could have been borne in mind for a century. There was another footpath that led through the peewit field, where the green plovers for evermore circle round in spring; then past the nightingale field, by the largest maple trees that grew in that country; this too was all grass.

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