CHAPTER V

ON THE WYE

A MORNING DRIVE-AN OLD MAN'S ANECDOTES-AN EVENING WALK ON GOOD FRIDAY BY THE SIDE OF THE HEREFORDSHIRE WYE

T last we have managed to hoist the dear old boy into the trap. He had added two steps to help

himself up, the lowest being within

eight inches of the ground. With the aid of his wife and the groom we got him to lift his right foot on to the lower step and his left foot on to the next, and so on till he was safely landed in a comfortable seat, well wrapped up; and off we started for a six-mile drive on this lovely

morning-lovely, but with a keenish northwesterly wind in our faces. This was the first time he had been out for some weeks, and the warm and keen air brightened him up surprisingly.

The country was quite new to me, not far from the Wye, to our left, as we drove along the Hay road. He soon became chatty and garrulous; he told me about the beautiful country we were driving through, the owners of the estates, the tenants, their holdings and the rent they paid, and various stories about the men themselves. Then, when he had exhausted that subject, he told me of the terrible snowstorm tragedy they had last December on the Montgomery side of the county. He knew the two young men well, the one nineteen and unmarried, the other twenty-three and married; they had been to an auction with his own man, and returned home by train; landed at a station on the railway towards Llandrindod, and then started to walk over a mountain to their homes -it was dark, and the snow was falling fast; they lost their way and wandered about. There was no anxiety felt at either of their homes, which were not far apart-the parents thinking they may have reached the son's house safely,

and the son's wife was satisfied that they must have found shelter at the father's house. But when morning came and they were not found at either place the anxiety became intense. The mountain was deep in snow, which continued to fall. The country was roused-search parties set out, and for two or three days no trace of the unhappy young men could be found. At length, I think after three days' search, the bodies of the brothers were found under three feet of snow, within two hundred yards of their father's house, locked in each other's arms, the elder having taken off his own overcoat and wrapped it round his young brother. It must have been a touching sight, and was indeed a very terrible tragedy. It seems to have been truly as fine an example of unselfish heroism on the part of this good brother, and as worthy of the D.S.O. as if shown on the field of battle. The story, he said, was told in all the local papers, but I had not read of it before.

His bailiff, who had attended the funeral, was driving home in a snowstorm when suddenly a large limb of an elm tree, heavily laden with snow, fell without any warning across the road just in front of his horse, which was, of course,

terribly startled, reared straight up, and bolted; he managed to keep his seat and hold on. The horse was eventually quieted down, and with the help of a passer-by got past the tree, and he reached home safely. That was a most providential escape from another tragedy. And so we passed the time on our drive, the old man, who is many years my junior, spinning his continuous yarns till we got back in time for luncheon. It was a glorious morning, and the drive had done him good.

AN EVENING WALK.

Good Friday down here, on the Welsh border, was as lovely a day as could be desired. It was just perfect for a stroll-the wind had toned down to a pleasant breeze, the sun was shining brilliantly, and all Nature seemed to be waking up from its long winter's sleep. I am staying within a mile of the river Wye, but not on fishing bent-it is too early for me; besides, there is nothing but pike to be looked for yet. I turned off the turnpike road to the right and trespassed southward across a hundred acre pathless meadow in search of the river, for I wanted to see how it looked at this season. I had long since made

its acquaintance some miles lower down, but here, and on this side, all was new to me. After a walk of a mile or so across the meadows, I came suddenly on its banks, and to me, just emerging from the fogs and disagreeables of London, this noble river presented an unspeakably pleasant sight-a broad, silver sheet flowing, ever-flowing slowly, and in almost absolute silence, for it scarcely ever uttered a sound. is here about a hundred yards wide, as nearly as I could guess, and was at its full, without any indication of overflow. It may be said of the Wye as Sir John Denham said of the Thames :

66 Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull; Strong without rage; without o'erflowing full."

It

I was quite fascinated by the beauty of it all- a broad silver sunlit stream flowing seaward in one unbroken, noiseless mass-majestic, irresistible, an aristocratic stream, too dignified to notice any small or minor obstacles to its course. I followed it up for a mile, and could see its winding course through the green meadows for another mile or two. Everything was silent -no fish moving in its waters, no fly on its sur

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