THE FOREST 167 



my little forest, shook their heads and said they 

 feared the trees would be root-bound by the grass 

 and remain poor stunted things even if they 

 managed to live. My brother thoughtfully sug- 

 gested I should put up a sign, "Do not tread on 

 the forest in the grass." Partly that I might 

 see the trees and thus gain courage, and partly 

 to aid their gro^vth, I used laboriously to cut the 

 grass about them with a sickle, and mulch 

 them. Occasionally by a miss-stroke, a forest 

 tree was laid low. I had great need to be 

 philosophical. 



In those discouraging days the Myopia Club 

 of Hamilton held their annual fox-hunt or, 

 rather, anise-seed bag chase in our neighborhood. 

 One autumn morning, to my dismay, the rider, 

 with his anise-seed bag trailing behind, rode 

 straight through my forest. I arranged saw- 

 horses and stretched strings as temporary fences 

 to keep off the hunters and confine them to a 

 path below the forest, but in the afternoon the 

 red-cOated riders jumped the saw-horses and lived 

 up to their names by riding over the forest without 

 seeing it. I suppose they thought I had arranged 



