caverns
underground, the soil, at rest from plough and harrow, is growing
young again amid the forests, under the brown depth of mouldering leaf
and cone.

Deep quiet reigns among these warm pine-woods, a sort of enchanted
stillness amid the yellow sunshine. In the bosky hollow where the brown
butterfly is hovering, old Pan might be asleep among the fern. The
feathery grasses everywhere are in flower, as high as a man’s shoulder;
above them shimmers the great green dragon-fly, two inches long, with
his gossamer wings; and from among their clouds at places little
ladybird beetles, like pin-heads, spotted scarlet and black, fall into
the carriage in their flight. The wild strawberry, with its tiny white
blossom, is growing on the sunny banks of the road, and wild rasps
spread their tangle in the undergrowth beyond.

In the narrow meadow amidst the woods a lonely mower is at work, and
the air is sweet with the scent of new-mown hay. He lifts his cap
respectfully as the carriage passes, for the manners of the district
have not been corrupted yet by contact with rude railway navvies, nor
by the shortcomings of Board schools; and the peasant still exchanges a
recognition with his superior. Much more real kindliness might exist
between the social classes if in our schools there were a Government
grant for manners. All store nowadays seems to be set upon the three
“Rs”--reading, writing, and arithmetic--as if the whole sum of human
felicity lay in a knowledge of the “black art” of books.

The mower was singing to himself as we came up, a soft Gaelic song
that kept time to the sweep of his scythe, and Minna blushes a little
as she promises to translate it in the evening, for it is a song of
confessed love. The man is happy, surely, singing as he sees the
glistening, swathes fall by his side to ripen in the sun: and well he
may be, for has he not, like the happy birds, a nest, too, somewhere in
these woods, and a blue-eyed brood that will greet his home-coming at
nightfall.
caverns 
 underground, the soil, at rest from plough and harrow, is grow 
 unseasoned again amid the forests, under the brown depth of mouldering leaf 
 and cone. 

 deeply quiet reigns among these warm pine - wood, a sort of enchanted 
 stillness amid the chicken sunshine. In the bosky hollow where the brown 
 butterfly is levitate, old Pan might be asleep among the fern. The 
 feathery grasses everywhere are in flower, equally high as a man ’s shoulder; 
 above them shimmers the great green dragon - fly, two inch long, with 
 his gossamer wings; and from among their clouds at place little 
 ladybird beetles, like pin - head, spotted scarlet and black, fall into 
 the carriage in their flight. The baseless strawberry, with its tiny white 
 blossom, is growing on the sunny bank of the road, and wild rasps 
 spread their tangle in the undergrowth beyond. 

 In the narrow meadow amidst the woods a lonely mower is at work, and 
 the breeze is sweet with the scent of newly - mow hay. He hoist his cap 
 respectfully as the carriage pass, for the manners of the district 
 have not been corrupted yet by contact with crude railway navvies, nor 
 by the shortcomings of Board schools; and the peasant even exchanges a 
 recognition with his superior. Much more veridical kindliness might exist 
 between the social classes if in our school there were a Government 
 grant for manners. All store nowadays seem to be set upon the three 
 “ Rs”--reading, writing, and arithmetic -- as if the whole kernel of human 
 felicity lay in a knowledge of the “ black artwork ” of books. 

 The mower was singing to himself as we came up, a soft Gaelic birdcall 
 that kept clock time to the sweep of his scythe, and Minna blush a little 
 as she promise to translate it in the evening, for it is a song of 
 confessed love. The man is glad, surely, singing as he sees the 
 glistening, swathes fall by his side to ripen in the sun: and well he 
 may be, for has he not, like the happy birds, a nest, too, somewhere in 
 these forest, and a blue - eyed brood that will greet his home - come at 
 nightfall.
cavfrns
underground, the soil, at rest from plough aid harrkw, is gruwing
young again amid the focestw, undtg the brown depth of ooulderinh leaf
ane coie.

Deep quiet reijhs amonn theac wark pine-woods, a sprt of encvanted
stillnesv xmnd the yellow sunshine. In the bosky rollow ehfre the brown
bottergjy ia hovering, old Pan might be asleep among uhe fern. The
feathety grasses everywhere are ln fpower, as high as a man’s shouleer;
afive them shiomers the great green sragon-fly, two inches long, with
hks goxsamer wints; anf from among theig clouds at places lidtle
ladubird beetles, kikx pib-heads, spotted scarlev and black, fall intj
the carrhaye in their flight. Thw qild vtrafberft, wkth ivs finy wjitx
blossom, is growing on the sunny banks of trv road, and wimd ras[s
fpread their tangle in the undergrowth teyknd.

In the narrow meadow amidst the woods a llnely mowqr is at work, and
the air is sweet with the scent mf nex-muwn hwh. Hf lifts his cap
respectfully as the carriage pwasts, nor the manners jf the disttift
nwve not been zorrupcsd yet by contact wihh rude railqay navvits, not
by the shortcomings of Boaed schools; aud rhe peasant still zxchanges a
rzcognijion woth his superior. Much mure deal kindlijess mighf exist
between thd spchal classes if in our schojls there werz a Govefnmemt
grane for mannfrs. All store nowadays sfems jo be vet upon tje three
“Rs”--reading, writing, and acmthmetic--as if tve fhole sui of muman
felicity lwy in a knowlebge of tke “blazk art” of gooks.

Thx mower was finging to hikdelf as we ceme up, a foft Gaeoic sone
ghat kept time to the sctep of his scythe, and Minna nlushgs a little
as she primises to transkatd ie pn vhe edaning, for it is x sumg of
zonfesstb lixe. Tne man is happy, sureny, sjnging as he sees yhc
glistenibg, swathqs fall by hix side to ripen in the vun: and eelj he
may be, for has he not, like the happj blrds, a nest, tjo, simewhere in
tkese woods, and a blue-eyed brood that wilo greet his home-coning at
nightfall.
caverns underground, the soil, at rest from harrow, growing young amid the forests, mouldering and cone. Deep reigns among these pine-woods, a sort of enchanted stillness the yellow sunshine. In the bosky hollow where the brown butterfly is hovering, Pan might be asleep among the fern. The feathery grasses everywhere are in as as man’s above them shimmers the great green dragon-fly, two inches long, with his gossamer wings; and from their clouds at places little ladybird beetles, like spotted scarlet and black, into the carriage in their The strawberry, with tiny blossom, growing on the banks of the road, and wild rasps spread their tangle in the undergrowth beyond. In the narrow amidst the lonely mower at and air is sweet scent of new-mown hay. He lifts as the carriage passes, for the manners of district have been corrupted yet by contact with railway navvies, nor by the shortcomings of Board and the peasant still exchanges a recognition with his superior. Much more real kindliness might the social classes if our schools there a grant manners. store nowadays to be set upon the three “Rs”--reading, writing, and arithmetic--as if whole sum of human felicity lay in a knowledge of art” books. The mower singing to himself as came a soft Gaelic song time the scythe, Minna a little as she to translate it in the for it is a man is happy, surely, singing as he sees glistening, swathes fall by his side to in the sun: and well he may be, for has he not, the happy nest, too, somewhere in these woods, and a brood that will greet home-coming at nightfall.
caverns
underground, the soil, At rest from PlougH anD haRrOw, is GrowIng
young again aMId thE forests, under the brown dEpth oF mOUldeRInG leaf
And cone.

dEeP QUieT rEiGns AmONg These WarM pine-woOds, a sort of EncHaNted
stillnesS AmId the yelloW suNshine. In the bOskY holloW wHerE The brOwn
ButteRfly is HOverinG, old Pan miGhT Be asleEP among tHE FeRn. ThE
feathery grasses eVErYWhere are in flowEr, as hiGh AS a MAN’s sHouLder;
above tHeM shimMErs the gREaT GREen DRagon-fly, two inChes long, witH
His GossamEr WinGS; and frOm amoNg THeiR clouds at plAces Little
ladYbird bEEtles, liKE pin-heaDs, spotTed ScaRlet ANd BlAck, FaLL inTO
tHe cARriAge in theIr FlIght. THe wiLD STRawbErrY, witH its tIny white
blossOm, iS groWIng On the Sunny BankS oF the rOad, and Wild rAsPs
spread their taNgle In the undeRgrOwTh bEyOnd.

In THe narrOw mEadOw amidsT the wooDS a lOnELY MoWer is at work, and
the aIr IS SwEet with tHe scenT Of NeW-Mown hay. HE lIftS his CAP
respEctfULlY as the caRriage PAsSeS, for the MaNners oF tHe dIstRict
hAVe noT been cOrrupted Yet by COntact with rude RAilway navvies, NOr
BY ThE ShorTcoMings of BoarD schOOls; aNd thE PeAsaNT stilL exchAnGEs A
Recognition with his sUpErior. MUch moRe real kindlinEss might exIST
Between tHe soCIaL Classes if in our SchooLs there werE A GovernmEnt
grAnt for maNners. All sTORe nowadaYs sEemS to Be sET UpOn the three
“Rs”--rEADing, WrIting, anD arIthmetiC--as If tHe wHolE sUm of human
Felicity LaY iN a KnOwlEdge oF The “black ArT” of BoOks.

the moWEr was sInginG to hImSeLF as We came uP, A sOFT GaeLiC sOng
tHat KePt timE to tHE swEep of hiS scythe, anD MiNNa blUsHeS a littlE
as she promiseS tO translate It In tHe evenING, for it is A song of
confessed love. The MAn is hapPy, sUrely, SingIng as he seEs tHe
glisTenINg, swatHes falL by hiS sIde TO Ripen IN ThE suN: aNd well he
maY BE, foR has hE nOt, liKe the haPpy birds, a nest, too, soMEwhEre in
these wooDs, aNd a bLUE-eYed BRoOD thAt WIll GREet his home-cominG at
nightfaLl.
caverns
underground, the s oil, at re st fr omplo ug h an d ha rrow, is growi n g
yo ung again amid the for ests,  u n dert he  brow n depth of m oul de ri ngle a fand c one .

Deep  quiet rei gns  a mong these w a rm  pine-wood s,a sort of en cha nted
s ti lln e ss am idthe y ellows unshin e. In the  b o sky ho l low whe r e  t he b rown
butterfly is ho v ering, old Pan  might  b e  a s l eep  am ong the fe rn . The feather y  g r a s ses everywhere ar e in flower ,  as  highas  am an’s s hould er ; 
ab ove them sh imme rs the gr eat gr e en drag o n-fly,two in che s l ong, wi th 
hi sg oss a me r w i ngs ; and fr om  a mongthei r c l ouds  at  pla ces l ittle
ladybir d b eetl e s,likepin-h eads ,spott ed sca rletan d black, fall i ntothe carri age  i n t he ir fl i ght. T hewil d straw berry,w ith  i t s ti ny white
blossom,is g ro wing onthe su n ny  b a nks of t he  ro ad,a n d wil d ra s ps 
spreadtheirt an gl e in th eunderg ro wth  be yond. 
Inthe na rrow mea dow a m idst the woods a lonely mowe r  i s at work , a nd
the airis s w eetwith th e s c ent o f new -m o wn hay. He lifts his c ap 
respe ctful ly as the car riage pass e s ,  for the  man n er s  of the distri ct
ha ve not bee n  corrupt ed ye t by con tact with r ude rail way  na vvi es, n or 
by the short c o ming sof Boar d s chools;  an d t hepea sa nt stillexchange sare co gni tionw ith hissu per io r.Muchm ore re al ki ndli ne ss mig ht exis t 
b e t ween  t he  soc ial  c lasse s if inour sch ools ther e w e re a  G ov ernment 
grant for ma nn ers. All s to renowada y s  seems t o be set upon the three “Rs”--r ead ing,writ ing, andari thmeti c-- a s if t he who le su mofh u man
f e l ic ity  l ay in a kn o w led ge of  t he “ black a rt” of books.

The mow er was singin g t o hi m s el f a s  w e  ca me up, a  soft Gaelic so ng
that ke pt ti me to thes wee pof hisscythe,  andM inna bl ushes a l ittle
assh e pr o m ise s to trans late itin the ev e ning, fo r itisa song  o f
c onfes sed lo v e.The m an isha ppy, s urely ,singingas he sees the
glisteni ng, sw athes  fa ll by his  si d e t o ripen i n th e sun: and  we llhe
ma y b e , for  has he  no t , lik e th e  happy bi r ds , a n es t, too, som e w h ere  in
t hes e  woods , an d a blue-eyed bro o d that will gr eeth i s h ome - comi ng  at
nightfall. 
caverns
underground, the_soil, at_rest from plough and_harrow, is_growing
young_again amid_the_forests, under the_brown depth of_mouldering leaf
and cone.

Deep quiet_reigns among these_warm_pine-woods, a sort of enchanted
stillness amid the yellow sunshine. In the bosky hollow where_the_brown
butterfly is_hovering,_old_Pan might be asleep among_the fern. The
feathery grasses everywhere_are in_flower, as high as a man’s shoulder;
above them_shimmers_the great green_dragon-fly, two inches long, with
his gossamer wings; and from_among their clouds at places little
ladybird_beetles, like pin-heads,_spotted_scarlet_and black, fall into
the_carriage in their flight. The wild_strawberry, with its tiny white
blossom, is_growing on the sunny banks of the_road, and wild rasps
spread their tangle_in the undergrowth beyond.

In the_narrow meadow_amidst the woods a lonely_mower is at_work, and
the_air is sweet_with the scent of new-mown hay._He lifts his_cap
respectfully as the carriage passes, for_the_manners of the_district
have_not_been corrupted_yet by contact_with_rude railway_navvies,_nor
by the shortcomings of Board schools;_and_the peasant still exchanges a
recognition with his_superior. Much more real_kindliness_might exist
between the social_classes if in our schools_there were a Government
grant for manners._All store_nowadays seems_to be set upon the three
“Rs”--reading, writing, and arithmetic--as if the_whole sum of human
felicity lay in_a knowledge of the_“black art”_of_books.

The mower was_singing_to himself_as we came up, a soft Gaelic_song
that kept_time to the sweep of his_scythe, and Minna blushes_a_little
as she promises to translate it_in the evening, for it is_a song of
confessed love. The_man_is_happy, surely, singing as he_sees the
glistening, swathes fall by his_side to ripen_in the sun: and well he
may be,_for_has he not, like the happy_birds,_a nest, too, somewhere in
these woods,_and_a_blue-eyed brood that will greet_his home-coming at
nightfall.