THE WOODLANDS IN MA Y 147 



except that in the open spaces where the copse was 

 felled last winter the spikes are taller and richer in 

 scent and colour. Where the clay crops up, the 

 hyacinths are mixed with primroses, small, but strongly 

 perfumed, set as in a garden, in cushioned beds of moss. 

 Standing on the hill-side at the margin of the wood, 

 and facing the wind which blows over miles of similar 

 forest- ground, the air sweeps by us fresh and clear, yet 

 loaded with the perfume from hundreds of acres of this 

 hyacinth-garden, like the scent of asphodels from the 

 Elysian fields. 



In spring, while the sap is still running upwards, 

 these woods are as silent and deserted by man as the 

 wheat-fields in June. The fallen timber lies ready for 

 carting ; but the grindstone stands dry with rusted 

 handle, until wanted to sharpen the axes in autumn, 

 and the young fern and flowers are twining among the 

 stacked faggots and piles of wattle hurdles, which 

 will not be moved till the fall of the leaf. There are 

 few or no villages in the forest-country. The' homes 

 of the woodlanders are scattered and remote, and, when 

 found, present a strange and pleasing contrast to those 

 of the labourers in the cultivated country. For the 

 former, the choice of site has not been limited by the 

 artificial value which accrues to land in the neighbour- 

 hood even of the smallest village, and too often robs 

 the labourer's cottage of the light and space which 

 should be a countryman's birthright. The woodman 

 has usually been a " free selector " in the choice of his 

 dwelling-place, and it needs a wide acquaintance with 



