a　dream　of　summer　England。　。　。　。

This　is　the　valley　of　the　Blythe。　The　stream　ripples　and　glances　over　its　brown　bed　warmed　with　sunbeams；　by　its　bank　the　green　flags　wave　and　rustle；　and；　all　about；　the　meadows　shine　in　pure　gold　of　buttercups。　The　hawthorn　hedges　are　a　mass　of　gleaming　blossom；　which　scents　the　breeze。　There　above　rises　the　heath；　yellow…　mantled　with　gorse；　and　beyond；　if　I　walk　for　an　hour　or　two；　I　shall　e　out　upon　the　sandy　cliffs　of　Suffolk；　and　look　over　the　northern　sea。　。　。　。

I　am　in　Wensleydale；　climbing　from　the　rocky　river　that　leaps　amid　broad　pastures　up　to　the　rolling　moor。　Up　and　up；　till　my　feet　brush　through　heather；　and　the　grouse　whirrs　away　before　me。　Under　a　glowing　sky　of　summer；　this　air　of　the　uplands　has　still　a　life　which　spurs　to　movement；　which　makes　the　heart　bound。　The　dale　is　hidden；　I　see　only　the　brown　and　purple　wilderness；　cutting　against　the　blue　with　great　round　shoulders；　and；　far　away　to　the　west；　an　horizon　of　sombre　heights。　。　。　。

I　ramble　through　a　village　in　Gloucestershire；　a　village　which　seems　forsaken　in　this　drowsy　warmth　of　the　afternoon。　The　houses　of　grey　stone　are　old　and　beautiful；　telling　of　a　time　when　Englishmen　knew　how　to　build　whether　for　rich　or　poor；　the　gardens　glow　with　flowers；　and　the　air　is　delicately　sweet。　At　the　village　end；　I　e　into　a　lane；　which　winds　upwards　between　grassy　slopes；　to　turf　and　bracken　and　woods　of　noble　beech。　Here　I　am　upon　a　spur　of　the　Cotswol