WOODLANDS 5 



ncath the golden bloom of the furze, the pale anemones 

 flower. 



When the June roses open their petals on the 

 briars, and the scent of new-mown hay is wafted over 

 the hedge from the meadows, the lane seems to wind 

 through a continuous wood. The oaks and chestnuts, 

 though too young to form a complete arch, cross their 

 green branches, and cast a delicious shadow. For it 

 is in the shadow that we enjoy the summer, looking 

 forth from the gateway upon the mowing grass where 

 the glowing sun pours down his fiercest beams. 



Tall bennets and red sorrel rise above the grass, 

 white ox-eye daisies chequer it below ; the distant 

 hedge quivers as the air, set in motion by the intense 

 heat, runs along. The sweet murmuring coo of the 

 turtle dove comes from the copse, and the rich notes 

 of the blackbird from the oak into which he has 

 mounted to deliver them. 



Slight movements in the hawthorn, or in the 

 depths of the tall hedge grasses, movements too quick 

 for the glance to catch their cause, are where some 

 tiny bird is passing from spray to spray. It may be 

 a white-throat creeping among the nettles after his 

 wont, or a wren. The spot where he was but a 

 second since 'may be traced by the trembling of the 

 leaves, but the keenest attention may fail to detect 

 where he is now. That slight motion in the hedge, 

 however, conveys an impression of something living 

 everywhere within. 



There are birds in the oaks overhead whose voice 

 is audible though they are themselves unseen. From 

 out of the mowing grass, finches rise and fly to the 

 hedge; from the hedge again others fly out, and, 

 descending into the grass, are concealed as in a forest. 



