the hazel-copse, or on the hawthorn bough, both day and night, and higher up, upon the downs, the skies are full of larks carolling at 'Heaven's gate.' But the poor woman hears them not. She has no memories of poetry; her mind can call up no beautiful thoughts to associate with the flower or the bird. She can sign her name in a scrawling hand, and she can spell through simple print, but to all intents and purposes she is completely ignorant. Therefore, she cannot see, that is, appreciate or feel, the beauty with which she is surrounded. Yet, despite the harsh, rude life she leads, there works up to the surface some little instinctive yearning after a higher condition. The yellow flowers in the cottage-garden--why is it that cottagers are so fond of yellow?--the gilly-flower, the single stock, marigolds, and such old-fashioned favourites, show a desire for ornament; still more so the occasional geranium in the window, specially tended by the wife." Later on he returns to the subject, and relates the story of Dolly most mournful, most tragic, full of tears and pity. He now began to alternate his practical and his poetical papers. For the _Mark Lane Express_ he wrote on "Village Organization"; for the _Standard_ on "The Cost of Agricultural Labour"; for the _Fortnightly_ on the "Power of the Farmer." Between these papers he wrote on "Marlborough Forest," on "Village Churches," and on the "Average of Beauty." The first of these three articles already reached almost the highest level of his better style. Even for those who have never wandered in this great and wonderful forest, the paper is wholly charming, while to those who know the place, it is full of memories and regrets that one has seen so little of all that this man saw.