HERBS 



would enclose a goodly space. Or in the boughs 

 above, a savage's tree hut might be built, and yet 

 scarcely be seen. 



My roaming and uncertain steps next bring me 

 under a plane, and I am forced to admire it ; I 

 do not like planes, but this is so straight of trunk, 

 so vast of size, and so immense of height that I 

 cannot choose but look up into it. A jackdaw, 

 perched on an upper bough, makes off as I glance 

 up. But the trees constantly afford unexpected 

 pleasure ; you wander among the timber of the 

 world, now under the shadow of the trees which 

 the Red Indian haunts, now by those which grow 

 on Himalayan slopes. The interest lies in the 

 fact that they are trees, not shrubs or mere sap- 

 lings, but timber trees which cast a broad shadow. 



So great is their variety and number that it is 

 not always easy to find an oak or an elm ; there 

 are plenty, but they are often lost in the foreign 

 forest. Yet every English shrub and bush is here; 

 the hawthorn, the dogwood, the wayfaring tree, 

 gorse and broom, and here is a round plot of 

 heather. Weary at last, I rest again near the 

 Herbaceous Ground, as the sun declines and the 

 shadows lengthen. 



As evening draws on, the whistling of black- 

 birds and the song of thrushes seem to come from 

 everywhere around. The trees are full of them. 

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