me-nots; commons with the yellow Lady's-bedstraw, Harebells, and the sweet Thyme; marshy places with the yellow stars of the Bog Asphodel, the Sundew sparkling with diamonds, Ragged Robin, the beautifully fringed petals of the Buckbean, the lovely little Bog Pimpernel, or the feathery tufts of Cotton grass; hedgerows with Hawthorn and Traveller's Joy, wild Rose, Honeysuckle, and Bryony; underneath are the curious leaves and orange fruit of the Lords and Ladies, the snowy stars of the Stitchwort, Succory, Yarrow, and several kinds of Violets; while all along the banks of streams are the red spikes of the Loosestrife, the Hemp Agrimony, water Groundsel, Sedges, Bulrushes, flowering Rush, and Sweet Flag.
Many other sweet names will also at once occur to us—Snowdrops, Daffodils, Heart's-ease, Lady's-mantles and Lady's-tresses, Eyebright, Milkwort, Foxgloves, Herb Roberts, Geraniums, and among rarer species, at least in England, Columbine and Elecampane.
But Nature does not provide delights for the eye only. The other senses are not forgotten. A thousand sounds—many delightful in themselves, and all by association—songs of birds, hum of insects, rustle of leaves, ripple of water—seem to fill the air. Flowers, again, are sweet as well as lovely. The scent of pine woods, which is said to be very healthy, is certainly delicious, and the effect of woodland scenery is good for the mind as well as for the body.
"Resting quietly under an ash tree, with the scent of flowers, and the odour of green buds and leaves, a ray of sunlight yonder lighting up the lichen and the moss on the oak trunk, a gentle air stirring in the branches above, giving glimpses of fleecy clouds sailing in the ether, there comes into the mind a feeling of intense joy in the simple fact of living."[1]
Woods and forests were to our ancestors the special scenes of enchantment.
The great ash tree Ygzdrasil bound together heaven, earth, and hell. Its top reached to heaven, its branches covered the earth, and the roots penetrated into hell. The three Normas, or Fates, sat under it spinning the thread of life.
Of all the gods and goddesses of classical mythology or our own folk-lore, none were more fascinating than the Nature Spirits, Elves and Fairies, Neckhans and Kelpies, Pixies and Ouphes, Mermaids, Undines, Water Spirits, and all the Elfin World—
Which have their haunts in dale and piny mountain,
Or forests, by slow stream or tingling brook.
They come out, as we are told, especially on moonlight nights. But while evening thus clothes many a scene with poetry, forests are fairyland all day long.
Almost any wood contains many and many a spot well suited for fairy feasts; where one might almost expect to find Titania resting, as once we are told:
She lay upon a bank, the favourite haunt
Of the spring wind in its first sunshine hour,
For the luxuriant strawberry blossoms spread
Like a snow shower then, and violets
Bowed down their purple vases of perfume
About her pillow—linked in a gay band
Floated fantastic shapes; these were her guards,
Her lithe and rainbow elves.
In early spring the woods are bright with the feathery catkins of the willow, followed by the bright green of the beech, the white or pink flowers of the thorn, the pyramids of the horse-chestnut, festoons of the laburnum and acacia, while the oak slowly wakes from its winter sleep, and the ash leaves long linger in their black buds.
Under foot is a carpet of flowers—anemones, cowslips, primroses, bluebells; and the golden blossoms of the broom, which, however, while gorse and heather continue in bloom for months, "blazes for a week or two, and is then completely extinguished, like a fire that has burnt itself out."[2]
In summer the tints grow darker, the birds are more numerous and full of life, the air teems with insects, with the busy murmur of bees and the idle hum of flies, while the cool of morning and evening, and the heat of the day are all alike delicious.
As the year advances and the flowers wane, we have many beautiful fruits and berries, the red hips and haws of the wild roses, scarlet hollyberries, crimson yew cups, the translucent berries of the guelder rose, hanging coral clusters of the black bryony, feathery festoons of the traveller's joy, and many others less conspicuous, but still exquisite in themselves—acorns, beech nuts, ash-keys, and many more.
It is really difficult to say which are most beautiful, the tender greens of spring, or the rich tints of autumn, which glow so brightly in the sunshine.
Tropical fruits are even more striking. No one who has seen it can ever forget a
