370 WILD TLOWEES OF 



f 



net of a naturalist, or in a public museum, would we 

 not receive a still greater enjoyment, could we observe 

 them in their native habitats ? or in collecting them 

 ourselves on the shores where they had been left by 

 the ebbing tide, or thrown up by some recent storm ? 

 The pursuit of natural history, indeed, is in all cir- 

 cumstances redolent of pleasure to its cultivators ; 

 that is, when they are fairly warmed with the subject, 

 and possessed of that degree of enthusiasm, without 

 which every pursuit is stale, flat, and unprofitable."* 



In a tour through South Wales, I was once seeking 

 for the remains of Pennard Castle, in the peninsula 

 of Grower, about eight miles west of Swansea, where 

 former botanists have recorded the habitat of a rare 

 plant, the Drdba aizoides, which is met with nowhere 

 else in Britain. I had got into a mountain track 

 among scattered white-washed cottages, overlooked 

 by a rough old veteran of a church tower, that seemed, 

 with its overhanging battlements and narrow loop- 

 holes, more like the refuge of beaten warriors than 

 the hallowed receptacle for harmless bells ; and hence 

 obtained a direction to a time-worn brother on the 

 steep hill beyond. In the little cemetery, with its 

 humble mounds of rustic flowers, the old parish clerk 

 was making hay alone, and paused at his labour, as I 

 bent beneath the narrow gateway. "It's a weary 

 track, Sir, to the old castle," said he, " and it is all 

 so surrounded and choked up with sand, that it is not 

 easy to get at ; indeed, it is long since I have been 

 there. But if you can wait till I have turned this hay, 

 I will e'en go with you." Having descended a long 

 wearisome lane, we entered upon a wild and barren 



* DRUMMOND on Natural Systems of Botany, p. 93. 



