thing of that joy and wonder in living, &c." I quite agree with her: I think that first poem in the book—The Salutation—one of the most wonderful things ever written.
18th. I was interrupted and couldn't finish last evening, so another day has gone by during which I sat down in a wood and gazed on a splendid red fox, then had a talk with a gamekeeper, who is eaten up with magpies. Then I spent an hour in the grand old church of Cranborne, full of monuments to persons of importance in their day and in their parish: and finally I got to a strange out-of-the-world little village called Edmunsham—pronounced Ed-sham. There is a well on a wide green place there and half the women and all the children were congregated at it, the women with big white sun-bonnets, with great old brown earthenware pitchers to get their water. They were like Ancient Britons and made such a hubbub and gave me so many directions when I asked my way to Damerham—called Dam-ron, that I failed to understand, and went how I could over miles of furzy common and by lanes until I found Dam-ron, and then on to Martin.
I shall stay here till Tuesday next and then get back to Salisbury, and visit villages on the Wylie river before returning next week.
With love to all.
W. H. Hudson
Dear Garnett,
So much time have I spent in these parts I fear I shall not see Dorset this time. Up till now I have not been about my own business, but running after County Councillors, and they are elusive birds and hard I find it to put salt on their flying tails. I am now going to Salisbury—in fact I'll post this letter there before 10 this evening so that you will not know where it was written in spite of the address being there plain enough. I have had some days at Marlborough, not a bad place, a small old red brick town with a High Street a hundred feet wide. I was in the forest two or three times and a few of the villages near. At Grafton I went to see a
