WILD SPORTS IN THE SOUTH. 



CHAPTER I. 



INTEODUCTOBY. 



" flourish, hidden deep in fern, 



Old oak I love thec well, 

 A thousand thanks for what I learn, 

 And what remains to tell." 



TENNYSON. 



A GOODLY creation is a tree I Its mast-like trunk, 

 supporting a thousand branches that weave and inter- 

 weave, fretting the blue air with their tracery ; 

 lithe to the wind, stubborn to the storm, the pillars 

 bend but do not break, in the long-drawn leafy 

 aisles of God's cathedral. Its roots, far-reaching, with 

 tiny fibres probe the earth for moisture, and send the 

 life-blood through the arteries to the fragrant blossoms 

 and the topmost leaves that " clap their little hands in 

 glee with one continuous sound." To its shadow not only 

 the beasts of the field come for shelter, but millions of 

 insects seek a home under the rough folds of its bark, or 

 weave their cradles in its rocking boughs. On its 



1* 9 



