To right and left green roads dip down
to the unseen villages, and here and there the way itself becomes a
metalled road leading to some larger highway; but even so, you can soon
regain the grassy tract, following the slow curve of the placid down.

There is no sweeter place to be found on a hot summer day than the old
drift-road. The hedges are in full leaf, and the undergrowth, sprinkled
with flowers, weaves its tapestry over the barer stems of the
quicksets. The thrushes sing clear in the tiny thickets, and the
blackbird flirts with a sudden outcry in and out of his leafy
harbourage. Here the hedge is all hung with briony or traveller's joy;
there is a burst of wild-roses, pale discs of faintest rose-jacinth,
each with a full-seeded heart. The elder spreads its wide cakes of
bloom, and the rich scent hangs heavy on the air. One seems in a moment
to penetrate the very heart of the deep country-side, and even the
shepherd or the labourer whom one passes shares the silence of the open
field, and the same immemorial quality of quiet simplicity and
primitive work. It is then that there flashes upon one a sense of the
inexplicable mystery of these inexpressive lives, toiling to live and
living to toil, half pathetic, half dignified, wholly mysterious in the
lie that they give, by their meek persistence, to restless ambitions
and dreams of social amelioration. For, whatever happens, such work
must still be done until the end of time; and the more that mind and
soul awake, the less willing will men be to acquiesce in such uncheered
drudgery. If one could but educate the simpler hearts into a joyful and
tranquil consent to conditions which, after all, are simple and
wholesome enough; if one could implant the contented love of field and
wood, wide airs and flying clouds life, love, ease, labour, sorrow--all
that is best in our experience--could be tasted here and thus; while
the troubles bred by the covetous brain and the scheming mind would
find no place here. It is a better lot, after all, to live and feel
than to express life and feeling, however subtly and ingeniously, and I
for one would throw down in an instant all my vague dreams and
impossible hopes, my artificial cares and fretful ambitions, for a life
unconscious of itself and an unimpaired serenity of mood. The dwellers
in these quiet places neither brood over what might have been nor
exercise themselves over what will be. They live in the moment, and the
moment su