108 ABOUT A.FERN. [CHAP. 
For— 
‘* Where the copsewood is the greenest, 
Where the fountains glisten sheenest, 
Where the morning dew lies longest, 
There the Lady-fern grows strongest.” 
We have in our mind’s eye a narrow Cornish lane 
lined with a profusion of tall gay foxgloves, and 
strong robust-looking Male-ferns; this lane, which 
seemed to be used only by an occasional cow, ends 
in a shady cul-de-sac, where a spring of clear cold 
water flows into a rude moss-covered stone trough, 
and, overflowing, forms a tiny stream which murmurs 
through the grass and moss, finally vanishing in the 
dense bushes which surround the spot. All around 
the trough dozens of the most beautiful Lady-ferns 
throw up their frail fronds all jewelled by the glisten- 
ing dew-like drops, their fibrous rootlets penetrating 
into the water itself. How those few ferns relieved 
that corner from the most commonplace aspect! 
There on that sloping ground, where the rocks just 
peep above the soil, the slender fronds coil about the 
mossy stone, whilst above the clumps of foxglove 
give warmth and colour to the picture. But the 
finest specimens we have seen were growing nearer 
London. Within a damp wood, but thirty miles from 
the Metropolis, we came upon a patch of bog, where 
one had to step with some amount of caution. Here 
were Lady-ferns in abundance, mingled with the 
similarly slender fronds of the Marsh-ferns. One 
magnificent specimen possessed fronds four feet in 
length, and here the roots were immersed in running 
water. Within the radius of a mile from the same 
