side fringed by hedgerows and trees, with cottages and farmhouses
irregularly placed, and terminated by a double avenue of noble oaks;
the left, prettier still, dappled by bright pools of water, and
islands of cottages and cottage-gardens, and sinking gradually down
to cornfields and meadows, and an old farmhouse, with pointed roofs
and clustered chimneys, looking out from its blooming orchard, and
backed by woody hills. The common is itself the prettiest part of
the prospect; half covered with low furze, whose golden blossoms
reflect so intensely the last beams of the setting sun, and alive
with cows and sheep, and two sets of cricketers; one of young men,
surrounded by spectators, some standing, some sitting, some
stretched on the grass, all taking a delighted interest in the game;
the other, a merry group of little boys, at a humble distance, for
whom even cricket is scarcely lively enough, shouting, leaping, and
enjoying themselves to their hearts' content. But cricketers and
country boys are too important persons in our village to be talked
of merely as figures in the landscape. They deserve an individual
introduction--an essay to themselves--and they shall have it. No
fear of forgetting the good-humoured faces that meet us in our walks
every day.



WALKS IN THE COUNTRY.

Frost.

January 23rd.--At noon to-day I and my white greyhound, Mayflower,
set out for a walk into a very beautiful world,--a sort of silent
fairyland,--a creation of that matchless magician the hoar-frost.