i 9 o JULY 



shoots flourish well below the sweep of the most cunning 

 scythe. 



Except in primrose time, when Surrey railway cuttings 

 are as sweet as a Shakespearean bouquet, the banks and 

 cuttings of the east are poor things beside the western 

 gardens. There are Welsh banks to-day heavy enough 

 with the scent of meadow-sweet to penetrate into the 

 train ; and both cutting and embankment are as spinneys 

 or hedgerows or gardens, very green with the male fern 

 and pink with rose and blackberry. A tree that seems to 

 have some affinity with the railway as seen both in 

 Radnor and Herts is the white poplar ; and not once 

 or twice I have heard passengers ask what the lovely 

 flowers were. The lovely flowers are, of course, the 

 palimpsest of the leaves, so white that before a puff of 

 wind the tree shifts and rocks the light like a flock of 

 snow buntings. Presently this covering, white as privet 

 blossom, will fall off almost like the petals of a true 

 blossom. 



