SWEET CHESTNUT TREE. 



581 



rumbling, and then a near clap of thunder, which is echoed every 

 time by the frightened chatter of the cock pheasants. 



The path is strewn with the shapely yellow leaves of the Chest- 

 nuts. Those on the standing rods are turned to gold and flame by 

 the low sun. The noise of beaters and guns comes from below. 

 The year is waning. 



Once more the Chestnuts stand bare. Up the valley comes the 

 music of the hounds, and scarlet coats are dotted among the trees. 

 The woodman begins his work again and fells the copse of five years' 

 growth. 



