Lurcher-Land. 95 



endless ranks, like columns that support the most 

 beautiful roof of pink and white. Here the bloom is 

 rosy, there white prevails : the young green is hidden 

 under the petals that are far more numerous than 

 leaves, or even than leaves will be. Though the path 

 really 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 shed- 

 ding the softest lustre. The light is reflected and 

 apparently increased by the countless flowers over- 

 head. 



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 farm- 

 yard 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 



