26 SYLVAK WINTER. 



and pillared columns moulded, in their softness 

 of contour, like human limbs rising amidst the 

 wreathed contortions of their roots, from the 

 brown, leaf-strewn floor of the forest, now singly, 

 and now in double and treble lines, and forking 

 into branches, which, bending and curving and 

 twisting, fling out against the sky a fretwork 

 roof of myriads of boughs and spray, present a 

 sight not easily forgotten by those who have 

 seen these delightful trees in all their native free- 

 dom, untouched by the hand of the pruning wood- 

 man. 



' The Venus of the Woods,' as the Ash has 

 been called, next claims, we think, some notice. 

 ' Ashen-grey ' is an expression sufficiently 

 familiar to denote the peculiar tint of the bark, 

 which is more clear and conspicuous in young, 

 than in old trees. The smoothness of the young 

 ashen bark is also another feature, and a mark, 

 too, as in the case of the skin of the Beech, of 

 beauty. But the Ash sapling has less beauty 

 in its form than the mature tree, because of the 

 thickness and scarcity of the spray, and the 

 prominence of the buds, which are larger in pro- 



