THE NEW FOREST IN SPRINGTIME. 63 
At the latter end of March, or beginning of April, the black- 
thorn bushes make a grand display here and there ; the long 
purple black branches, clothed with milk-white blossoms, show- 
ing up well in thickets of tangled oak, dogwood, and honeysuckle. 
In these sheltered spots the grass grows sweet and thick, and 
the forest ponies and their foals come here for the sake of the 
feed, and of protection against the bitter east winds. 
Here and there, deep among the old beech and oak woods, 
beside a grassy “ lawn ” or on the bare open moor, you come 
across a keeper’s lodge, clean, snug, and comfortable-looking, 
with its well-kept flower-garden in front, and plot of vegetable 
ground, and slip of grass-grown orchard behind. Those forest 
orchards, how beautiful they are ! consisting, it may be, of a 
dozen trees — old, mossy, and twisted into every imaginable 
shape — with the bright green grass below them, through which 
the sweet-scented double daffodils are even now thrusting their 
sturdy, sword-like leaves and bowed green and golden heads. 
Along that sunny, mossy bank, the white violets cluster 
closely, whilst beneath them in the ditch, where later the blue- 
bells bloom, struggles the tiny, blue-flowered periwinkle, amidst 
an occasional clump of the beautiful butter-and-egg narcissus. 
Another very favourite flower in these old-world gardens is the 
double lilac primrose, sometimes, though rarely, accompanied 
by the beautiful snow-white variety. 
But the spring day is drawing to a close, the fowls have had 
their evening meal and retired to roost among the rafters of the 
rough heather-thatched stable ; the cows and pony are waiting 
patiently by the door for their food ; the old black pig is routing 
busily in the thin turf and grunting loudly ; and the lurcher is 
walking to and fro, to the extent of his chain, uttering a short 
bark now and again. 
In the sky the daylight slowly dies, leaving bars of gold and 
pale green, against which the black outlines of the pines stand 
out in sharp contrast. Very soon all colour has passed away, 
the animals are at rest for the night, and no sound breaks the 
silence of the forest except the rustle of the wood pigeon’s wings, 
as he settles down to roost in the fir trees on his return from 
foraging in the neighbouring fields. 
C. M. Duppa. 
A Mole’s Larder ?— Among the mole-catching fraternity in these parts 
there is a belief that moles lay by a stock of food against times of scarcity. The 
plan is supposed to be this. A quantity of wretched worms are collected in a 
chamber. To prevent their escape the head of each worm is bitten, and thus all 
power of getting out of captivity is taken away as long as the wound remains 
unhealed. The larder is said to be constantly overhauled, and a fresh bite 
inflicted on the poor worm to keep up the raw. By this simple means of torture 
the mole is supposed to keep his larder going. Such is the local opinion more or 
less prevalent. Have any of the readers of Nature Notes ever heard of a like 
habit ? It is contrary to what one has always read, and I do not think authority 
can be quoted in its favour. 
The! ford. 
ED^tU^ID Thos. Daubeny. 
