46 January — Grasses* 



retain almost every charm but color. The forms of 

 fern are still complete, and the plant still bears itself 

 with a perfect grace, except where it has been exposed 

 to injury, and then it will often be broken, for it is more 

 fragile now than in the elasticity of summer. There 

 are grasses which survive with all their elegance, and 

 their delicate pale spears stand perfect in the air of 

 winter, bending at every breath, and bearing trembling 

 plumes, yet recovering themselves always. I value, too, 

 the great old dead stalks of the bramble, all quite hoary 

 and gray, with nothing but thorns upon them. They 

 are often twelve or fifteen feet long, and trail about the 

 hedges much more visibly at this season than when hid- 

 den under the summer leafage. 



The blackthorn is valuable for the abundance of its 

 dark purple fruit, as big as common grapes, and covered 

 with a beautiful blue-gray bloom. The whole coloring 

 of this plant in winter is strikingly harmonious, for the 

 stem and twigs are of a pleasant purplish gray, which 

 the fruit continues in another variety. It is well worth 

 painting in studies of still-life for its peculiar quality of 

 texture. The whitethorn is less harmonious, but richer, 

 with the multitudes of its dark vermilion berries, in 

 masses quite sufficient to affect the coloring of a foie- 

 ground. Whilst the blackthorn is entirely bare of leaf- 

 age at this season, the whitethorn is not altogether bare, 

 but will often retain foliage rather abundantly in shel- 

 tered corners, and its remaining leaves are of a very 

 warm brown, which sustains the berries well, and is better 

 than the contrast of green. The way in which green will 



