DICK ROOK. 191 



glory, and I shall never forget the glowing scene. 

 The rays of the departing luminary penetrated 

 through the arched roof of the lane, or burst from 

 some occasional opening, and made the bank ap- 

 pear of a vivid redness, which those only can 

 imagine , who have wandered amidst the haunts of 

 Nature. 



As we emerged from the lane, we came imme- 

 diately to the foot of a hanger, (we were then in 

 the neighbourhood of Selborne,) and saw its preci- 

 pitous and craggy slopes above us. The brown 

 leaves of Autumn were adorning the beech trees, 

 and their " graceful and pendulous boughs" almost 

 swept the ground. It is my favourite tree, and 

 one of the most lovely of those which are indige- 

 nous in this country. 



See, the fading many coloured woods, 

 Shade deepening over shade, the country round 

 Imbrown.* 



Hollies, with their glossy green leaves and cluster- 

 ing red berries, were interspersed here and there, 

 sometimes affording support to a straggling honey- 

 suckle, or growing round the trunk of one of the 

 beeches. The very genius of Gilbert White seemed 

 to haunt the spot ; and while the rest of the party 

 were pursuing their sport, my imagination dwelt 

 on that charming naturalist, and on the ^scenes 

 which he delighted in and loved to describe. I 

 * THOMSON. 



