The high road through Pentrobin and
Tinkersdale offers a pleasant return route to Hawarden.
Everyone has heard of Mr. Gladstone's prowess as a woodcutter, and to
some it may even have been matter of surprise to see no scantiness of
trees in the Park at Hawarden. It is true that he attacks trees with the
same vigour as he attacks abuses in the body politic, {32b} but he
attacks them on the same principle--they are blemishes and not ornaments.
No one more scrupulously respects a sound and shapely tree than Mr.
Gladstone; and if he is prone to condemn those that show signs of decay,
he is always ready to listen to any plea that may be advanced on their
behalf by other members of the family. In this, as in other matters,
doubtful points will of course arise; but there can be no question that a
policy of inert conservatism is an entire mistake. Besides the natural
growth and decay of trees, a hundred other causes are ever at work to
affect their structure and appearance; and the facts of the landscape,
thus continually altering, afford sufficient occupation for the eye and
hand of the woodman. It was late in life that Mr. Gladstone took to
woodcutting. Tried first as an experiment, it answered so admirably the
object of getting the most complete exercise in a short time that, though
somewhat slackened of late, it has never been abandoned.
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