DAYS IN DOVE DALE 1Q 



cottage, and partings at the wicket they all 

 live in one little plant Kiss-me-at-the-garden- 

 gate ! (Hierologus). 



The prevailing plant on the water's margin 

 was a large-leafed one to my ignorant mind 

 like rhubarb as one sees it in market gardens, 

 and in Covent Garden. It must surely be wild 

 rhubarb. 



Thus I wandered through the winding vale 

 in childish admiration of the new pictures ever 

 opening up before me. 



The most remarkable features of this won- 

 derful valley seem to me to be the weird 

 spires of grey rock, 



14 Whose silent finger points to heaven," 



every here and- there standing up abruptly, 

 some of them over a hundred feet above the 

 green foliage which lines the hills on either 

 side. It does not require much imagination 

 to fancy these gigantic rocky pillars to be the 

 ruins of some giant's fortress. 



Looking upward I beheld an awful cavern 

 about one hundred and fifty feet almost per- 

 pendicularly above me ; but, like a trembling 

 bird at the gaze of a serpent, I was fascinated. 



