EARLY SPRING IN SAVERNAKE FOREST 217 



These, too, always seem to be alive. It is a leaf 

 that refuses to die wholly. When separated from 

 the tree it has, if not immortality, at all events a 

 second, longer hfe. Oak and ash and chestnut 

 leaves fade from month to month and blacken, 

 and finally rot and mingle with the earth, while 

 the beech leaf keeps its sharp clean edges un- 

 broken, its hard texture and fiery colour, its 

 buoyancy and rusthng incisive sound. Swept by 

 the autumn winds into sheltered hoUows and 

 beaten down by rains, the leaves lie mingled in 

 one dead, sodden mass for days and weeks at a 

 time, and appear ready to mix with the soil ; but 

 frost and sun suck up the moisture and the dead 

 come to life again. They glow like fire, and 

 tremble at every breath. It was strange and 

 beautiful to see them lying aU around me, 

 glowing copper and red and gold when the sun 

 was strong on them, not dead, but sleeping like 

 a bright-coloured serpent in the genial warmth ; 

 to see, when the wind found them, how they 

 trembled, and moved as if awakening ; and as 

 the breath increased rose up in twos and threes 

 and half-dozens here and there, chasing one 

 another a little way, hissing and rustling; then 



