1 86 THE FANTASIES OF FERNS 



The Fern does not appeal directly to insect 

 or man through a specialized color, or perfume. 

 The wind passing through the trees of the forest, 

 or among the reeds of the marshes, moves them 

 to seeming articulate speech, but it tosses the 

 heavily massed banks of Ferns, and sweeps the 

 brake jungles on the wild commons, swaying them 

 to and fro, while the silence that follows their 

 motion is as deep as when the pad -footed cat 

 hurries over soft turf, springs noiselessly, misses its 

 quarry, and crouches once more, to the eye a 

 bewilderment of unheard action. 



From the very circumstances of its evolution and 

 growth, the Fern is more aloof than the flowering 

 plants and also lacks the personal attributes which 

 have given familiar names to blossoming things. 

 These varied attributes have led flowers through 

 the gates of poetry into the more serious realm 

 of prose, until they not only have become a part 

 of literature, but have a literature all their own, 

 while their hold on household love increases like 

 their race. 



Not so with Ferns. They have scanty litera- 

 ture and few gracious names. Their tribal Golden 

 Age had passed before man came to read their 

 meaning. Back in the time of ancient life they 



