214 LIFE AND SPORT IN HAMPSHIRE 



through the soil, it looks, as do the dog's mercury 

 and some of the chervils and ferns at the same stage, 

 rather tousled. At first glance, its tender leaves might 

 appear scorched by frost the mark left by frost is 

 often like the mark left by fire and drooping from 

 the punishment. But, looking closer, we find that 

 the tender green has not been burnt by frost or 

 bruised through forcing its way through the soil ; it 

 is only that the wizened little leaves are uncrinkling. 



Then, with lowly moschatel, but far more widely 

 spread, unfastidious in choice of growing place, the 

 common chervil or cow parsley is also adding to its 

 greenery in the February hedge. Here is a perennial, 

 which grows green leaves, beautiful leaves, all the 

 winter, unlike some of its cousin chervils, which are 

 perennial, too, but in winter live only in their root, 

 hibernating hi the dark. Chervil puts out fresh, ferny 

 leaves in February, which, like the moschatel's, push- 

 ing up through flinty road scrapings, wear the same 

 bruised look. 



The manner in which these tenderest of tender 

 leaves force their way to light, lift and push away the 

 hard, caked soil, is a constant wonder to me. Pick a 

 young leaf of chervil, and with it try to break through 

 a piece of caked earth half an inch thick you might 

 as well try to force it through a sheet of iron. How 

 then in Nature can chervil leaf lift and thrust aside 

 the earth ? I suppose it is done by gentleness and 

 persistence together. Gently, ever so gently, the 



