192 



Ritshes. 



of " the land of the Lindsays " with the big world and 

 full civilization), how often have we wandered by strips 

 of wood in the centre of great sweeps of boulder-dotted 

 heath land to gather the rushes ; and how often have 

 we lain in a sheltered corner sheltered alike from 

 wind and sun by the tall rushes among which we 

 worked and through the whole afternoon gathered 

 and patiently extracted piths, getting more and more 

 up to it by practice till the soft white rounded substance 

 would whirl, twisting from 

 the greeny case, like the 

 shavings from a plane or 

 a spokeshave, to return 

 proudly, our prize in our 

 hand,and receive praise and 

 commendation more es- 

 teemed, perhaps, than any 



praise or commendation we 

 have since received. 



The only service played 

 by the pith of the rush now- 

 adays, so far as we know, 

 is in making the wick of 

 certain night-lights. 

 Most beautiful and imposing of all the rushes is, 

 perhaps, the bulrush, which has come in for a good 

 deal of notice from the poets. Few readers of poetry 

 but will remember Lord Tennyson's fine lines in the 

 "May Queen": 



" When the flowers come again, mother, beneath the waning light, 

 You'll never see me more in the long grey fields at night ; 

 When from the dry dark wold the summer airs blow cool 

 On the oat-grass, and the sword-grass, and the bulrush in the 

 pool," 



