A WOOD RAMBLE IN APRIL 29 



field-mouse ; the movement is not heavy enough for 

 a weasel, still less for a stoat ; it is the sound of an 

 animal of less than three ounces weight. Now I move 

 on to a place where some underwood has lately been 

 cut, and then to where the ground is naturally open, 

 a half-acre of wild turf on the sunny hillside, of the 

 fine grasses native to the sandy soil, with occasional 

 tufts of the pretty Wood-Sage that will flower in the 

 full summer. The little Cinquefoil, with a flower like 

 a small wild Strawberry, is in bloom, and Dog- Violets 

 and Stitchwort, and here and there is a fine clump of 

 Burdock, whose grandly-formed leaves with their boldly- 

 waved edges I always think worthy of a place in a 

 garden. 



Just above this open space is a low hedgerow of 

 Hazels, with still rising wooded ground above. What 

 a pretty and pleasant place that wise rabbit has chosen 

 for his " bury," as the country folk call it ; at the foot 

 of the low sandy bank, and where it is kept quite dry 

 by the roots of the old Hazels. Just above is a carpet 

 of wild Hyacinth backed by Hollies, and a little garden 

 of the same comes right up to his front-door, where a 

 tuft or two is partly buried by some of his more recent 

 works of excavation. Here also are more Burdocks. 

 Their leaves have almost the grandeur of those of the 

 Gourd tribe, but without their luscious weakness, and 

 the vigour of the Rhubarb without its coarseness. I 

 never cease to admire their grand wave of edge and 

 the strength of line in the " drawing " from root to 



