DECEMBER. 305 



and the sweet-fern of the upland pastures, in still mild 

 weather, often faintly perfumes the atmosphere, with 

 the scent of its half-developed leaves and flowers. 



But the face of nature, at this time, is not an unfruit 

 ful subject for the poet or the painter. The evergreens, 

 if not more beautiful, are more conspicuous than at 

 any other season ; and there are many beautiful stream 

 lets that ripple through the woods, and often in their 

 depths find protection from the greatest cold. Around 

 these streams the embroidering mosses are as green as 

 the grasses in May. The water-cresses may be seen 

 growing freshly at the bottom of their channels, and 

 the ferns are beautiful among the shelving rocks, through 

 which the waters make their gurgling tour. When the 

 sun, at noonday, penetrates into these green and shel 

 tered recesses, before the snow has come upon the earth, 

 when the pines are waving overhead, the laurels clus 

 tering with the undergrowth, and the dewberry (ever 

 green blackberry) trailing at our feet, we can easily 

 imagine ourselves surrounded by the green luxuriance of 

 summer. Nature seems to have created these pleasant 

 evergreen retreats, that they might afford to her pious 

 votaries a shelter during their winter walks, and a pros 

 pect to gladden their eyes, when they go out to admire 

 her works, and pay the homage of a humble heart to 

 the great architect of the universe. 



Nor is the season without its harvest. The sweet 

 gale, or false myrtle, in dry places gleams with dense 

 clusters of greenish white berries, that almost conceal 

 the branches by their profusion ; the pale azure berries of 

 the juniper are sparkling brightly in the midst of their 

 sombre evergreen foliage ; and the winter-berry, or black 

 alder bushes, glowing with the brightest scarlet fruit, 

 and resembling at a distance pyramids of flame, are 



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