A NOBLE FOREST. 195 



"Rich in wild grasses numberless, and flowers 

 Unnamed save in mute Nature's inventory." 



In the air above, myriads of dainty white but- 

 terflies sported, ever rising in little agitated par- 

 ties of two or three, climbing gayly the invisible 

 staircase till at an immense height, and then 

 fluttering back to earth no wiser than they went 

 up, so far as the human eye could see. 



The forest, as I have called it, was, to be sure, 

 by measurement of man, not more than three or 

 four feet high. But all things are relative, and 

 to the frequenters of that pleas'ant bit of wood- 

 laud, far above whose head it towered, it was as 

 the deep woods to us. I chose to look at it from 

 their point of view, and to them it was a noble 

 forest, resembling indeed a tropical jungle, so 

 thickly grown that paths were made under it, 

 where might be enjoyed leisurely walks, given 

 up to quiet and meditation. For there were 

 inhabitants in plenty, the regulars, the tran- 

 sients, the stragglers, in furs, in feathers, in 

 wings. 



In this nook, secluded from the world which 

 every day swept by without a glance, a constant 

 drama of life went on, which I could see and be 

 myself unseen. I soon became absorbed in the 

 study of it. The actors were of that mysterious 

 race which lives with us, and yet is rarely of us ; 

 whose real life is to us mostly a sealed book, and 

 of whom Wordsworth delightfully sings, 



