About eight o’clock in the evening
I was decanted at Crewe in the small hours and had to wait till six to get a train for Birmingham . In the afternoon I got to Reading , and changed into a local train which journeyed into the deeps of Berkshire . Presently I was in a land of lush water-meadows and slow reedy streams . About eight o'clock in the evening , a weary and travel-stained being -- a cross between a farm-labourer and a vet -- with a checked black-and-white plaid over his arm -LRB- for I did not dare to wear it south of the Border -RRB- , descended at the little station of Artinswell . There were several people on the platform , and I thought I had better wait to ask my way till I was clear of the place . The road led through a wood of great beeches and then into a shallow valley , with the green backs of downs peeping over the distant trees . After Scotland the air smelt heavy and flat , but infinitely sweet , for the limes and chestnuts and lilac bushes were domes of blossom .