CHAPTER V. 



DOWN A GREEN LANE I 



T^V OWN a green lane ! But what a lane ! 

 Words can but meagrely convey an im- 

 pression of its charms. Nor could the most 

 skilful artist, with the rarest combination of 

 colours which art can produce, give a faithful 

 representation of the glorious tints and of the 

 unrivalled gracefulness of the ferns which revel 

 there in all their native luxuriance. But how to 

 reach this lane ? 



You make a steep ascent along an upland road 

 a mile in length ; an ascent so long and so steep, 

 that could you make it without pausing, you 

 would stop at the summit to recover your breath. 

 But if you love scenery, and if you love the ferns, 

 you cannot climb this hill without stopping to 

 admire both, for both are of the rarest kind. 



