TREES, EVERGREENS, AND SHRUBS. 21 



"' Soon as the silent shades of night withdrew, 

 The ruddy morn disclosed at once to view 

 The face of nature in a rich disguise, 

 And brighten'd every object to my eyes ; 

 For every shrub, and every blade of grass, 

 And every pointed thorn seeni'd wrought in glass : 

 In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorns show, 

 While through the ice the crimson berries glow." 



Well may Ruskin say that no one can be far wrong, 

 in way of life or right temper of mind, if he loves the 

 trees enough, adding, " If human life be cast among 

 trees at all, the love borne to them is a sure test of its 

 purity." 



To those accustomed to the shade and sense of protection 

 attbrded by old trees, there is a strange feeling of interest 

 excited by the sight of a nursery of young seedlings in 

 their different stages of growth. It seems almost as difficult 

 to believe that these trim little rows of plants a few inches 

 high, will ever be the pride and pleasure of future times, 

 as it is to realise that the light-hearted children around us 

 will grow up to be heads of households and protectors of 

 others. Each individual that loves trees at all, has pro- 

 bably some one special favourite, the preference frequently 

 determined by early associations ; but whether it be the 

 sycamore or beech, loved because under their shade we 

 played, or the horse-chestnut, whose gummy buds and fan- 

 like leaves were our childish treasures, or the fir and larch, 

 from which we gathered our mimic needles and pins, or, 

 dearer than all, the hawthorn and rowan, with their snowy 

 clusters and " berries red and bright," — it matters not, the 



