272 THE FERN PARADISE. 



checkered with fleecy white clouds. You follow 

 the course of the current, watching some foam 

 spot as it eddies along, and disappears beneath 

 the arch over which you are leaning. As you 

 gaze intently into the stream, your cheeks are 

 fanned by the brisk moorland breeze, which 

 comes fresh laden with the sweet perfumes of 

 wild flowers. But the breeze has stirred the 

 tiny life which clings to the stony sides of the 

 bridge ; and your eyes are suddenly rivetted 

 by waving tufts of purple and green a mimic 

 forest of fern-fronds clothing the arches of stone 

 and mortar. Examine the exquisite arrange- 

 ments of these beautiful fronds, green gems on 

 stalks like maiden's hair. O bountiful Creator, 

 to spread out such rich treasures as these ! to 

 make the dry, hard stones live with their charm- 

 ing dress of glorious green ! 



Thousands of sights like these may be seen 

 in the wild, rocky moorlands, on bridges which 

 span the moorland streams. But much as it 

 loves the wild home of Nature, and the damp 

 rock in the moorland valley, the beautiful fronds 



