XLI 



OF all the trees in the wood, none is so prudent as 



the ash ; none that stays itself against 

 The 

 Prudent the storm with such far-reaching roots, 



or probes such distant soil for nourish- 

 ment; none that, in the vital matter of putting 

 forth leaves, is so fearful of encountering a back- 

 ward blast of winter. Tennyson taunted this tree 



for its laggardliness : t Why lingereth she ' the 



beautiful passage is already threadbare; and each 

 spring one yields to fresh impatience when the 

 woodland is all in new green, save for the frosty 

 ash-boughs. 



Yet there is often seasonable reminder that nine- 

 tenths of our park trees are foreigners, too easily 

 lured into leaf by treacherous ' bask ' days in March 

 and tepid April showers; not seldom have limes 

 and horse-chestnuts to pay for their temerity in 

 foliage bruised and blackened by the broken promise 



