217 

 A VISIT TO REFLEY WOOB. 



BY T. S. 



Two miles from Lynn, a large town in West Norfolk, stands Refley 

 Wood, or, as it is more commonly called, Refley Spring; and a fine old 

 wood it is! Oaks which have stood for ages, and still put forth their 

 deep green foliage with the returning summer, lofty elms, spreading sycamores, 

 and scented limes abound. Briar and rose, woodbine and bryony, all that 

 renders a wood-scene lovely, are there. Near its centre, at the base of a 

 lofty column, runs an unceasing spring of mineral water, falling with a 

 gentle murmur, cool and refreshing, from the ever open lion's mouth into 

 the basin below; close by is the ^'Temple," guarded by two couchant 

 sphinges, stern and stony, and various other shelters from the summer's 

 sun or sudden showers are close at hand. And this lovely spot is free — 

 free to all. Its noble-hearted proprietor throws open its green shades and 

 fragrant bowers to all, poor and rich without distinction; well do they 

 appreciate his generous care for their happiness; and day by day, all summer 

 through, smiling faces, beaming with pleasure, may be seen leaving their 

 toil in factory and shop, to enjoy nature's beauties, and drink in health 

 and vigour at "the spring." 



Many happy hours have I spent in Refley Wood, and if the reader 

 will accompany me we will join the cheerful throng, who, on pleasure 

 bent, wend their way along the dusty road, to enjoy a summer afternoon 

 in its cool recesses. Having left our horse at the farm-house near the 

 gate, we enter the wood. What a feeling of awe creeps over us as we 

 walk beneath its time-hallowed oaks, some shattered and bare, rent and 

 riven by many a storm, blasted by lightning, and bleached by sun and. 

 rain, others fresh and green, flourishing on in a healthy old age, ivy-clad 

 and wreathed with scented honey-suckles. But we are not long left to 

 our meditations; sounds of gladness and laughter break upon us, and soo^ 

 we see the happy party seated on the grass under the trees, all restraint, 

 like hats and bonnets, thrown aside, and each intent on fun and the good 

 cheer which has just been drawn from its hiding-place in those large 

 hampers; what happiness is depicted on each countenance! who will say 

 that the spirit of the English is broken by work — work? True it is, such 

 opportunities are few and far between, but when they do occur, who shall 

 say that England is not merry England still? Now, their repast over, 

 they have retired to yon open space, and are joining in the sprightly 

 country dance, (what a contrast to the cold, stifi", fashionable ball-room,) 

 with intervals of song; and some few happy couples are stealing away to 

 breathe forth their mutual vows of pure affection in nature's noblest temple 

 — disturb them not! 



VOL. VI. 2 F - 



