EEBBS. 195 



branch. Tent cloths might be stretched here in 

 similar manner, and would enclose a goodly space. 

 Or in the boughs above, a savage's tree hut might be 

 built, and yet scarcely be seen. 



My roaming and uncertain steps next bring me 

 ^nder a plane, and I am forced to admire it ; I do not 

 like planes, but this is so straight of trunk, so vast of 

 size, and so immense of height that I cannot choose 

 but look up into it. A jackdaw, perched on an upper 

 bough, makes off as I glance up. But the trees con- 

 stantly afford unexpected pleasure ; you wander among 

 the timber of the world, now under the shadow of the 

 trees which the Eed Indian haunts, now by those 

 which grow on Himalayan slopes. The interest lies 

 in the fact that they are trees, not shrubs or mere 

 saplings, but timber trees which cast a broad shadow. 



So great is their variety and number that it is not 

 always easy to find an oak or an elm ; there are 

 plenty, but they are often lost in the foreign forest. 

 Yet every English shrub and bush is here ; the haw- 

 thorn, the dogwood, the wayfaring tree, gorse and 

 broom, and here is a round plot of heather. Weary 

 at last, I rest again near the Herbaceous Ground, as 

 the sun declines and the shadows lengthen. 



As evening draws on, the whistling of blackbirds 

 and the song of thrushes seem to come from every- 

 where around. The trees are full of them. Every 

 few moments a blackbird passes over, flying at some 

 height, from the villa gardens and the orchards 

 without. The song increases ; the mellow whistling 

 is without intermission ; but the shadow has nearly 

 reached the wall, and I must go. 



