116 SYLVAN WINTER. 



Winter, in that exquisite verdancy and gloss which 

 mark evergreens, there is perhaps no greater 

 enjoyment than a visit to a lane or wood, or to 

 any place where green life exists, immediately 

 after a thaw. Everything is so delightfully fresh. 

 The glistening of the green foliage is like a smile 

 of satisfaction. The earth and all upon it seems 

 to rejoice at the change. A refreshing beverage 

 has been drunk: roots, stems, and leaves have 

 been invigorated ; drying winds follow, to remove 

 all unnecessary moisture, and the plant world is 

 obviously and very materially stimulated for the 

 remainder of what may yet prove a trying season. 

 It is quite erroneous to suppose that the vegetable 

 world is insensible to the operations of Nature 

 during Winter. Though buds swell not, and leaves 

 do not grow, there is an existence which is very 

 real, though not very obvious. There is rest in 

 a large measure, but nothing at all approaching 

 lifelessness. Roots are full of life and vigour, 

 though they may not be growing. The subterra- 

 nean world of stem, root, rootlets, and root-fibres 

 is not subject to the same influences as the life 

 above ground. To them the Winter season is by 



