130 THE EULOGY OF RICHARD JEFFERIES. 



At the noise of our footsteps away go the 

 stags, their ' branching antlers ' seen high 

 above the tall fern, bounding over the 

 ground in a series of jumps, all four feet 

 leaving the earth at once. There are im- 

 mense oaks that we come to now, each with 

 an open space beneath it where Titania and 

 the fairies may dance their rings at night. 

 These enormous trunks what time they re- 

 present ! To us each hour is of consequence, 

 especially in this modern day which has in- 

 vented the detestable creed that time is money. 

 But time is not money to Nature. She never 

 hastens. Slowly from the tiny acorn grew up 

 this gigantic trunk, and spread abroad those 

 limbs which in themselves are trees. And 

 from the trunk itself, to the smallest leaf, every 

 infinitesimal atom of which it is composed 

 was perfected slowly, gradually there was no 

 hurry, no attempt to discount effect. A little 

 farther, and the ground declines; through the 

 tall fern we come upon a valley. But the soft 

 warm sunshine, the stillness, the solitude have 

 induced an irresistible idleness. Let us lie 

 down upon the fern, on the edge of the green 



