“Summer’s green, all girded up in sheaves;”
and therefore by Ryton’s two mills and Ryton’s many alders we moved slowly, inviting our souls, careless of Fate, that lay in her ambush, soon to harry us. A broad road crossed above us, and, alighting, we loitered by the bridge, and discovered a mile-stone that marks eighty-seven miles from London and three from Coventry. We could descry the three lovely spires of Lady Godiva’s town, mere needle-points above the trees to northward.
RYTON-ON-DUNSMORE
WOLSTON PRIORY
It was but shortly after that we came on an agreeable old gentleman, who stood a-fishing with a little red float, and lied in his teeth, smiling on us and asserting that Bubbenhall (where we had a mind to lunch) was but a mile below. A mile!—for a crow, perhaps, but not for proper old gentlemen, and most surely not for Avon. The freakish stream went round and round, all meanders
GLEANERS
GLEANERS