THE CHERRY 61 



fulnesses of spring is its array of light bronzy-brown 

 leaves waving in May over a hedgerow yet black with 

 the thorn-boughs of winter. To the true lover of 

 Nature, who will be perforce also a careful observer of 

 her ways, the delicate texture of spring leaves is as 

 charming as is their colouring. Then among the 

 brown-green leaves clusters of snowy blossoms make 

 their appearance, giving a festival look to the whole 

 wood-side, and long sprays of cherry-blossoms fre- 

 quently wave aloft above the surrounding coppice, to 

 send down, after a week or so of beauty, showers of 

 light snow upon our heads as we 'gather the flowers 

 beneath the trees. 



Early gales, following summer drought, often strip 

 the tree of its leaves before they lose their mature 

 green colour ; but if this is not so, there is indeed a 

 treat in store for the sensuous lover of colour, as 

 far surpassing that enjoyed by thrushes, blackbirds, 

 and village schoolboys in the lusciousness of the ripe 

 fruit, as his capacity for enjoyment is more keen than 

 theirs. Tennyson described the Laburnum as 



"Dropping- wells of fire " ; 



but the autumn leaves of the Cherry far more closely 

 resemble Pentecostal tongues of flame than do the 

 clear yellow clusters of the favourite garden tree. 

 The dark green shades into an infinite variety of 

 pinks, crimsons, oranges, browns, and yellows, each 

 little hanging leaf suggesting a piece of one of the 

 magnificently-tinted leaves of the Muscat Grape. 



With so much beauty, and with valuable timber, it 

 is strange that the Cherry should have attracted but 

 slight attention from John Evelyn, the pioneer of 



