46 THE FERN PARADISE. 



further on, we reach a point in the road where 

 a rushing stream comes out of and flows for some 

 distance by the side of the wood. The scenery 

 at this spot is beautiful almost beyond descrip- 

 tion. All who admire sylvan loveliness should visit 

 it. A rude rustic bridge crosses the stream and 

 gives access to a narrow, steep and winding path 

 which leads up into the dusky recesses of the 

 wood. When we travelled the route we are de- 

 scribing, it was May. On the right of the rustic 

 bridge, and almost overshadowing it, a large haw- 

 thorn bush was white with blossom, and scented 

 the air all around with its delicious fragrance. 

 Below us, the stream was rapidly eddying, waving 

 the weeds and wild growth that sprung up from its 

 bed. Just in front, a sudden fall in the level of 

 the stream caused the gurgle and foamy splash of 

 a tiny waterfall. A sloping bank led down on the 

 right from the road to the water's surface, covered 

 in such splendid luxuriance as is everywhere 

 to be seen in Devonshire with tall, rich, delight- 

 ful green grass intermingled with the dark green 

 fronds of the Hartstongue, and the handsome 



