A Surrey Village

Through the scattered village of Churt, in its deepest part, runs a
clear stream, broad in places, where it spreads over the road-way and
is so shallow that the big carthorses are scarce wetted above their
fetlocks in crossing; in other parts narrow enough for a man to jump
over, yet deep enough for the trout to hide in. And which is the
prettiest one finds it hard to say--the wide splashy places where the
cattle come to drink, and the real cow and the illusory inverted cow
beneath it are to be seen touching their lips; or where the oaks and
ashes and elms stretch and mingle their horizontal branches;--where
there is a green leafy canopy above and its green reflection below with
the glassy current midway between. On one side the stream is Surrey, on
the other Hampshire. Where the two counties meet there is a vast extent
of heath-land--brown desolate moors and hills so dark as to look almost
black.

It is wild, and its wildness is of that kind which comes of a barren
soil. It is a country best appreciated by those who, rich or poor, take
life easily, who love all aspects of nature, all weathers, and above
everything the liberty of wide horizons. To others the cry of "Back to
the land" would have a somewhat dreary and mocking sound in such a
place, like that curious cry, half laughter and half wail, which the
peewit utters as he anxiously winnows the air with creaking wings above
the pedestrian's head. But it is not all of this character. From some
black hill-top one looks upon a green expanse, fresh and lively by
contrast as the young leaves of deciduous trees in spring, with black
again or dark brown of pine and heath beyond. It is the oasis where
Churt is. The vivifying spirit of the wind at that height, and that
vision of verdure beneath, produce an exhilarating effect on the mind.
It is common knowledge that the devil once lived in or haunted these
parts: now my hill-top fancy tells me that once upon a time a better
being, a wandering angel, flew over the country, and looking down and
seeing it so dark-hued and desolate, a compassionate impulse took him,
and unclasping his light mantle he threw it down, so that the human
inhabitants should not be without that sacred green colour that
elsewhere beautifies the earth. There to this day it lies where it
fell--a mantle of moist vivid green, powdered with silver and gold,
embroidered with all floral hues; all reds from the faint blush on the
petals of the briar-rose to the deep crimson of the red trifolium; and
all yellows, and blues, and purples.

It was pleasant to return from a ramble over the rough heather to the
shade of the green village lanes, to stand aside in some deep narrow
road to make room for a farmer's waggon to pass, drawn by