THE LAND OF BLACKBERRIES. 65 



with its banks of harebells, wild thyme, and yellow ragworts, and on 

 all hands the country lies basking in sunshine, fuU of fertile promise, 

 beauty, and vegetable exuberance, and dotted and fringed all over 

 with bushy lines of Blackberries. Down the steep hill towards the 

 wood, up again, as the road passes over the upland, and a new scene 

 breaks upon us. Down again into the thick of the wood, and feast 

 our eyes on the interminable silvery birch masts, which gleam away 

 into the dark background, like the spars of an anchored fleet all wedged 

 together in a green sea of fern, while a solemn rustling in the green 

 twinkling foliage above sounds like a chorus of dryads, or the song of 

 liberated fays, which have been imprisoned in the glens since the days 

 of Oberon and Titania. Blackberries again, richer, larger, and more 

 pregnant with the cool mulberry flavour of any yet. Appetite grows 

 keen, and we feel that we could eat all the woods contain, they are 

 so grateful and delicious. 



Alternating with Blackberries are crab-trees, loaded with fairy fruit ; 

 then clumps of willow-herbs, here covered with rich purple blossoms, 

 there powdered with downy seeds ; then again, St. John's-wort, then 

 blue scabious, and then broad flushing sheets of crimson lythrum. 

 Blackberries again and again, and stomachs and baskets are filled to 

 repletion. The robins, and chaffinches, and willow-wTens, flutter and 

 sing, and chirp about us ; and now and tlien the rabbit limps along 

 through the brown brake, and the partridges run to cover. Between 

 the singing and chirping of the birds, and the flutter of the wood- 

 pigeon's wing, there is an occasional pause, — a dead stillness, — which 

 is so solemn, so palpable to the sense, which has been all but stunned 

 by the fret and din of cities, that it begets fear, and we tremble lest the 

 rest-harrow which blooms on the bank should convert its spines into 

 spears, and threaten us ; or that the earth should gape and let forth 

 some monster of malignity, such as the knights encountered in the 

 olden time. Silence is new to man, and as strange as it is new ; it is 

 the searching and listening of the suspended sense which begets the 

 mysterious feeling which accompanies it, and when it comes upon us 

 in the world of green moss, and crushed leaves, and tangled branches, 

 and Blackberries, we feel that we are alone with God, and come 

 nearer to Him in the solitudes and the silence becomes a new voice, 

 whispering of trust, and faith, and renewing love, and steadfast hope 

 in the promised hereafter. 



And here, sitting on the green bank, which is as soft and elastic 



F 



