80 A FARMER'S YEAR 



ploughs going on the farm, while carts are carrying dead leaves 

 from the shrubbery to the yards, and mud ' fyed ' from a pond is 

 being dumped into heaps to be spread upon the back lawn. To- 

 day also we have begun felling the undergrowth on the Bath Hills, 

 most of which has not been cut for the last twelve or fourteen 

 years. In properly managed woodlands the fell ought to be taken 

 every seven years ; indeed, in considerable woods it is divided 

 into seven portions for this purpose, one portion being cut each 

 year, when the stouter stuff is split for hurdles, and the rest, of 

 less substance, twisted into another form of hurdle which is known 

 as a ' lift,' the remaining brushwood being tied for faggots. 



In another part of Norfolk, where I was born, I remember my 

 father taking a visitor who had been bred in London round the 

 Big Wood, and elaborately explaining to her how one-seventh of 

 it was cut down each year. ' Dear me ! ' she exclaimed, staring 

 at some oaks in the fell which might have seen between 

 two and three hundred winters, ' I never knew before that trees 

 grew so big in seven years.' The story reminds me of that of 

 another lady whom I escorted to a field where we were drilling 

 wheat. I showed her some of the grain, and, as she did not seem 

 to recognise it, explained to her that it was the origin of the 

 common or domestic loaf. ' What ! ' she exclaimed incredulously, 

 ' do you mean to tell me that bread is made out of those little 

 hard things ? I always thought that it came from that fine white 

 stuff which grows in flowers ! ' Evidently there was some confusion 

 in the lady's mind between flour and flowers. Exactly what it was 

 it is not now safe to ask her to explain. Indeed, she boldly 

 repudiates the story. 



It will be observed that of these various agricultural operations 

 which are now in progress, only one, the felling, can be carried on in 

 frost, while even that must cease during snow or heavy rain. Well- 

 to-do people often express a wish for a ' good old-fashioned winter,' 

 but they do not understand what hardship this means to the poor, 

 with whom fuel is scanty, and who have to earn their daily bread 

 by labouring on the land. The poor, who do not skate or make 



