250 THE EULOGY OF RICHARD JEFFERIES. 



is in shadow as the branches shut out the sun, 

 yet it seems brighter here than in the open, as 

 if the place were illuminated by a million tiny 

 lamps shedding the softest lustre. The light 

 is reflected and apparently increased by the 

 countless flowers overhead. 



" The forest of bloom extends acre after 

 acre, and only ceases where hedges divide, to 

 commence again beyond the boundary. A 

 wicket-gate, all green with a film of vegetation 

 over the decaying wood, opens under the very 

 eaves of a cottage, and the path goes by the 

 door across a narrow meadow where deep 

 and broad trenches, green now, show where 

 ancient stews or fishponds existed, and then 

 through a farmyard into a lane. Tall poplars 

 rise on either hand, but there seem to be no 

 houses ; they stand in fact a field's breadth 

 back from the lane, and are approached by 

 footpaths that every few yards necessitate a 

 stile in the hedge. 



" When a low thatched farmhouse does abut 

 upon the way, the blank white wall of the rear 

 part faces the road, and the front door opens on 

 precisely the other side. Hard by is a row of 



