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cottage on the brow of the hill, drawing us on to surmise a land of greater marvels beyond the horizon, “over the hills and far away,” beneath the sunset into which the birds are homing. (Compare with this the landscape in Shades of Evening, No. 35.) Or take No. 6, The Little People’s Market—not at all the Goblin Market of Miss Christina Rossetti’s poem, but a chatty sociable market among the little folk themselves. Who that has been a child has not longed to surprise some such jolly goings-on, say in the depths of a disused rabbit-warren by the base of an old tree?
Mr. Rackham has a wonderful sense of trees and their mystery; nor need I go to learned works, such as Mr. Frazer’s Golden Bough, to prove what everybody knows, that to suggest meditation or31
