ith oases, in
which beauty has not been sacrificed to profit, and it is then happily
found that not only is there no loss, but the earth seems to reward even
more richly those who treat her with love and respect.

Scarcely any part of the world affords so great a variety in so small an
area as our own island. Commencing in the south, we have first the blue
sea itself, the pebbly beaches, the white chalk cliffs of Kent, the
tinted sands of Alum Bay, the Red Sandstone of Devonshire, Granite and
Gneiss in Cornwall: inland we have the chalk Downs and clear streams,
the well-wooded weald and the rich hop gardens; farther westwards the
undulating gravelly hills, and still farther the granite tors: in the
centre of England we have to the east the Norfolk Broads and the Fens;
then the fertile Midlands, the cornfields, rich meadows, and large oxen;
and to the west the Welsh mountains; farther north the Yorkshire Wolds,
the Lancashire hills, the Lakes of Westmoreland; lastly, the swelling
hills, bleak moors, and picturesque castles of Northumberland and
Cumberland.

There are of course far larger rivers, but perhaps none lovelier than

The crystal Thamis wont to glide
In silver channel, down along the lee,[5]

[Illustration: WINDSOR CASTLE.

_To face page 13._]

by lawns and parks, meadows and wooded banks, dotted with country houses
and crowned by Windsor Castle itself (see Frontispiece). By many
Scotland is considered even more beautiful.

And yet too many of us see nothing in the fields but sacks of wheat, in
the meadows but trusses of hay, and in woods but planks for houses, or
cover for game. Even from this more prosaic point of view, how much
there is to wonder at and admire, in the wonderful chemistry which
changes grass and leaves, flowers and seeds, into bread and milk, eggs
and cream, butter and honey!

Almost everything, says Hamerton, "that the Peasant does, is lifted
above vulgarity by ancient, and often sacred, associations." There is,
indeed, hardly any business or occupation with reference to which the
same might not be said. The triviality or vulgarity does not depend on
what we do, but on the spirit in which it is done. Not only the regular
professions, but every useful occupation in life, however humble, is
honourable in itself, and may be pursued with dignity and peace.

Working in this spirit we have also the satisfaction of feeling that, as
in some mountain track every one who takes the ri