1 72 A FARMER'S YEAR 



these I find, by the healed-up scars upon them, I have already 

 marked in past years and then spared. Indeed, it is evident that 

 in several instances I have done this twice, but the day of doom 

 has come at last. The trees upon these Bath Hills have been 

 very much neglected in past times ; if someone had thinned them 

 judiciously fifty years ago they would be much better specimens 

 than they are at present. As it is, the younger stands have been 

 allowed to crowd each other, and even to destroy and distort the 

 few old-established timbers by cutting off the air from their lower 

 boughs and causing them to die. 



I find, however, that there are two schools as regards the 

 treatment of timber. The first, in which are included eight 

 women out of ten, love to see trees of all sorts huddled up 

 together as close as nature will allow them to exist — long, lank 

 boles, with tufts of foliage on the top of them, and below a few 

 dead or dying branches. He who ventures to suggest that it 

 would be a good thing to let a little air into a thicket of this sort 

 is generally received with indignation, and probably hears it stated 

 afterwards : ' Oh, yes. So-and-so wants to cut down every tree he 

 sees ! ' As a rule, indeed, such a plantation is too far gone to be 

 touched with the object of improving the beauty of the specimens ; 

 also it is rather dangerous to let in the wind among these long- 

 shanked fellows, for then more are apt to go than you wish to 

 part with. I understand, also, that to grow timber in this fashion 

 is the most profitable method of forestry ; at least, I have observed 

 very large woods managed thus in France and Germany, where I 

 believe they understand such things. But for beauty, surely there 

 is nothing to equal trees as they are grown in a ordinary English 

 covert, where they receive attention when the fell is cut, once in 

 every seven years, and any which are not wanted are turned into 

 profit. 



On the lawn in front of this house stand four single trees, two 

 beeches and two limes, which have never been crowded or deformed 

 by the too close company of their kind. To my fancy those 

 four trees are better worth looking at than all the dozens which 



