158 MORE POT-POURRI 



old Dutch settlers at the Cape understood this subject 

 well. They made a law which enforced that every man 

 who cut down one tree should plant two in its stead. 

 Everybody who has a little plot of land should never 

 fail every autumn to plant some acorns, beech -nuts, 

 chestnuts, etc. Many trees will also strike from cuttings 

 in spring, notably all the Willow tribe, which grow the 

 moment they are stuck into the ground. If I were a 

 young Irishman, I should delight in thus renewing the 

 woods and copses of my country. We know how the 

 Irish love the soU, and the feeling is not badly expressed 

 in this little poem, which I copied from an English 

 newspaper : 



Often I wish that I might be, 



In this divinest weather. 

 Among my father's fields — ah me! 



And he and I together. 



Below the mountains, fair and dim, 

 My father's fields are spreading:' 



I'd rather tread the sward with him 

 Than dance at any wedding. 



Oh, green and fresh your English sod. 



With daisies sprinkled over. 

 But greener far were the fields I trod 



That foamed with Irish clover. 



Oh, well your skylark cleaves the blue 



To bid the sun good-morrow! 

 'Tis not the bonny song I knew 



Above an Irish furrow. 



And often, often, I'm longing still, 



In this all-golden weather, 

 For my father's face by an Irish hill, 



And he and I together. 



One of the most beautiful colour -effects I saw in Ire- 

 land was a small lake planted with great clumps of Dog- 



