boys soon lost sight of them.

It was a beautiful forest-road when they had crossed the heath. No
hedges shut it in, but here and there the great beech trees stood in
clumps or in single grace, and green rides opened vistas into cool
depths of shade which had never changed but with the seasons for many
ages. It was quite old-world scenery here. Neither clearings nor
enclosures had been thought of, and the wild sylvan beauty had all its
own perfect way. Presently there were signs of habitation. A curl of
smoke from a low roof so lost in its orchard that but for that domestic
flag it might have escaped observation altogether; a triangular green
with a pond, geese and pigs; more thatched cottages, gardens, small
fields, large hedges, high, bushy, unpruned; hedgerow trees; a lonely
little chapel in a burial-ground, a woodyard, a wheelwright's shop, a
guide-post pointing three ways, a blacksmith's forge at one side of the
road, and an old inn opposite; cows, unkempt children; white gates,
gravelled drives, chimney-pots of gentility, hidden away in bowers of
foliage. Then a glimpse of the church-tower, a sweep in the road; the
church and crowded churchyard, the rectory, the doctor's house, and a
stone's throw off the "King's Arms" at the top of the town-street, which
sloped gently all down hill. Another forge, tiled houses, shops with
queer bow-windows and steps up to the half-glazed doors, where a bell
rang when the latch was lifted. More white gates, more well-kept
shrubberies; green lanes, roads branching, curving to right and left;
and everywhere those open spaces of lawn and magnificent beech trees,
as if the old town had an unlimited forest-right to scatter its
dwellings far and wide, just as caprice or the love of beauty might
dictate.

"This is very lovely--it is a series of delightful pictures. Only to