Pictures, real pictures, everywhere, endless in variety. Steady! go
steady past these woods; see the blue haze of wild hyacinths, the cool
carpet of primroses. Look at the cowslips yellowing that meadow; do
you see the heron standing patiently in the marsh? Look overhead,
watch the hovering hawk; hark! there is the nightingale. Stop a moment
at the bridge; can you see the speckled beauties with their heads
upstream? Thank God for the blue, blue sky! thank God for the glory of
the sun, for the lights and shadows beneath the trees! Thank God for
the live air, the growth, the life of plant and tree, the fragrance
and the beauty! Thank God for rural England!
One can tell the most ancient, apart from the scientifically made
Roman roads, by the way they were worn down from the original level,
especially on hillsides, by the constant and heavy traffic. Every
passing wheel abraded a portion of the surface, and the next rain
carried the _debris_ down the hill, forming in time a deep depression,
between banks at the sides, often many feet deep, and giving the
impression of the track having been purposely dug out to lessen the
gradient. In places where the road became impassable from long use and
wet, deviations on either side were made, so that ten or a dozen
disused tracks can be seen side by side, often extending laterally
quite a long distance from the existing road in unenclosed
surroundings.
Pages:
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392