第5部分(第7/7 頁)

　flits　about　and　disappears。　It　is　the　curfew　signal；

the　lights　are　out　for　the　night。

Out　of　doors　I　am　aware　by　smell　and　touch　of　the　ground　we　tread　and

the　places　we　pass。　Sometimes；　when　there　is　no　wind；　the　odours　are　so

grouped　that　I　know　the　character　of　the　country；　and　can　place　a

hayfield；　a　country　store；　a　garden；　a　barn；　a　grove　of　pines；　a

farmhouse　with　the　windows　open。

The　other　day　I　went　to　walk　toward　a　familiar　wood。　Suddenly　a

disturbing　odour　made　me　pause　in　dismay。　Then　followed　a　peculiar；

measured　jar；　followed　by　dull；　heavy　thunder。　I　understood　the　odour

and　the　jar　only　too　well。　The　trees　were　being　cut　down。　We　climbed　the

stone　wall　to　the　left。　It　borders　the　wood　which　I　have　loved　so　long

that　it　seems　to　be　my　peculiar　possession。　But　to…day　an　unfamiliar

rush　of　air　and　an　unwonted　outburst　of　sun　told　me　that　my　tree　friends

were　gone。　The　place　was　empty；　like　a　deserted　dwelling。　I　stretched

out　my　hand。　Where　once　stood　the　steadfast　pines；　great；　beautiful；

sweet；　my　hand　touched　raw；　moist　stumps。　All　about　lay　broken　branches；

like　the　antlers　of　stricken　deer。　The　fragrant；　piled…up　sawdust

swirled　and　tumbled　about　me。　An　unreasoning　resentment　flashed　through

me　at　this　ruthless　destruction　of　the　beauty　that　I　love。　But　there