-. '. THE FANTASIES OF FERNS 217 



'Hi 'ave n't heggs to sell the day, but Hi 'ave n't 

 a hegg in the 'ouse.' 'She 'ave n't a hege in the 

 'ouse,' mocks the man, an' they two chaps drove 

 horf laughin'. Now wot was they laughin' hat, 

 that 's wot Hi 'd like to know? Did n't Hi give 

 'em a civil answer? Hinglish? Yes, mum, and 

 thank ye kindly, Hi 'm Hinglish a Devonshire 

 dumplin' too, bless ye! But 'owhever did 'e guess 

 hit, mum?" 



As we thanked her and walked out of the 

 yard, admiring the woman's honest unconscious- 

 ness, and swallowing our rising mirth lest we too 

 should be ranked as jays, some thick tufts of 

 Ebony Spleenwort, small sword -shaped feather - 

 parted Ferns, caught the eye. They were grow- 

 ing in the dry bank outside the fence, at the roots 

 and in some clefts of a mossed and decaying cedar 

 stump. 



The once -divided fronds had purplish -black mid- 

 ribs of the same color as the stems of both the 

 true Maidenhair and the slender Maidenhair Spleen - 

 wort, while the seed -cases fairly crowded the back 

 of the fertile fronds which were the longest. Usu- 

 ally seen on dry hillsides or among scrubby grass, 

 often broken and imperfect, we do not realize 

 what a dainty little Fern this Spleenwort is, until 



