THE MOUNT 275 



bride. But one of my earliest and most vivid 

 childish recollections, is of a walk with that 

 tiny and dainty lady, Frederika Bremer, whose 

 greatest wish on her arrival at the Rectory 

 was to see a Furze bush, such as the one 

 before which her great countryman, Linnaeus, 

 had fallen on his knees and given thanks. 

 My father took her up to the moor on the 

 road to Bramshill ; and the big Furze bush 

 in the Heather went by her name, till the 

 terrible heath-fires of 1871 blotted it out. 



But more precious far are memories of the 

 quiet home life. Hot days when my father 

 would tempt his favourite pair of natterjacks 

 from their hole in the lawn beyond the Acacia 

 tree, and walk up and down admiring the 

 colours on their backs, while the little crea- 

 tures sat contentedly in his hand ; or when 

 he would persuade the half-tame slow-worm 

 to come out of his nest in the steep, Thyme- 

 grown bank of the sunk fence. Memories 

 of warm Summer evenings, when, in the soft 

 dusk, German part songs and English glees 

 would float up in the still air beneath the huge 

 canopy of the Fir boughs ; and my father would 



