f which is
"Ne rector arbores in cemeterio prosternat." Now if it is recollected
that we seldom see any other very large or ancient tree in a churchyard
but yews, this statute must have principally related to this species of
tree; and consequently their being planted in churchyards is of much
more ancient date than the year 1307. As to the use of these trees,
possibly the more respectable parishioners were buried under their
shade before the improper custom was introduced of burying within the
body of the church where the living are to assemble. Deborah, Rebekah's
nurse, was buried under an oak--the most honourable place of interment
--probably next to the cave of Machpelah, which seems to have been
appropriated to the remains of the patriarchal family alone. The
further use of yew trees might be as a screen to churches, by their
thick foliage, from the violence of winds; perhaps also for the
purpose of archery, the best long bows being made of that material, and
we do not hear that they are planted in the churchyards of other parts
of Europe, where long bows were not so much in use. They might also be
placed as a shelter to the congregation assembling before the church
doors were opened, and as an emblem of mortality by their funeral
appearance. In the south of England every churchyard almost has its
tree and some two; but in the north we understand few are to be found."

Even in that passage, full as it is of all the quietness of the English
countryside, something of the secret of Gilbert White, his ever living
incommunicable charm may be found: his extraordinary and gentle gift of
becoming, as it were, one with the things of which he writes, his
wonderfully sympathetic approach to us, his so simple and so consummate
manner. The man might stand in his writings for the countryside of
England, incarnate and articulate. He not only leads you ever out of
doors, but he is just that, the very spirit of the open air, the out-
of-doors of a country where alone in Europe one can be in the lanes, in
the meadows, on the hills under the low soft sky with delight every day
of the year. He teaches, as Nature herself teaches; we seem to move in
his books as though they were the fields and the woods, and there the
flowers blow and the birds sing. It is not so much that his observation
is extraordinarily wide and accurate, but that we see with his eyes,
hear with his ears, and the phenomena, beautiful or wonderful, which he
describes,