io8 ABOUT A FERN. [CHAP. 



For 



" Where the copsewood is the greenest, 

 Where the fountains glisten sheenest, 

 Where the morning dew lies longest, 

 There the Lady-fern grows strongest." 



We have in our mind's eye a narrow Cornish lane 

 lined with a profusion of tall gay foxgloves, and 

 strong robust-looking Male-ferns; this lane, which 

 seemed to be used only by an occasional cow, ends 

 in a shady cul-de-sac, where a spring of clear cold 

 water flows into a rude moss-covered stone trough, 

 and, overflowing, forms a tiny stream which murmurs 

 through the grass and moss, finally vanishing in the 

 dense bushes which surround the spot. All around 

 the trough dozens of the most beautiful Lady-ferns 

 throw up their frail fronds all jewelled by the glisten- 

 ing dew-like drops, their fibrous rootlets penetrating 

 into the water itself. How those few ferns relieved 

 that corner from the most commonplace aspect ! 

 There on that sloping ground, where the rocks just 

 peep above the soil, the slender fronds coil about the 

 mossy stone, whilst above the clumps of foxglove 

 give warmth and colour to the picture. But the 

 finest specimens we have seen were growing nearer 

 London. Within a damp wood, but thirty miles from 

 the Metropolis, we came upon a patch of bog, where 

 one had to step with some amount of caution. Here 

 were Lady-ferns in abundance, mingled with the 

 similarly slender fronds of the Marsh-ferns. One 

 magnificent specimen possessed fronds four feet in 

 length, and here the roots were immersed in running 

 water. Within the radius of a mile from the same 



