THE DARYL IN MAY. 257 



broad as a wfyole continent rises slowly up- 

 wards, and widens as it moves ; and shortly the 

 masses lose individual form, and merge in a 

 dense flock. The westerly breeze sweeps with 

 a strong gust over the landscape, and brings 

 with it a soft, almost gelid rain. And no 

 sooner is this done than the sun is out again, 

 shining more brightly than ever, and the 

 clouds scatter ; but the rain still falls, and the 

 wonderful bow of Iris appears, but only to 

 dissolve and glimmer for a minute. We fish 

 at intervals with good fortune, and by the time 

 we reach Glendaryl Wood our basket is 

 heavily freighted. The wood of Glendaryl, 

 through which the Daryl runs, has a mixed 

 congregation of trees. They are of all ages 

 and sizes and sorts. Old greybeards, whose 

 feet are swathed in lichen and mosses ; tender 

 saplings over whose head few storms have 

 passed, and in whose branches birds have not 

 yet cared to live. There is an odour of pine 

 by the dim avenue we are traversing. The 

 wood is almost dark in the leafy summer, and 

 even in April there is a perpetual dusk in Glen- 

 daryl. Sometimes, however, you arrive at a 



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