THE "WOXDEKS OF THE SHORE. 27 



lightning and the fires of the Mausenthurm, 

 a lurid Acheron above which seemed to hover 

 ten thousand unburied ghosts ; and last, but not 

 least, on the lip of the vast Mosel-kopf cra- 

 ter, just above the point where the weight of 

 the fiery lake has burst the side of the great 

 slag-cup, and rushed forth between two cliffs of 

 clink-stone across the downs, in a clanging 

 stream of fire, damming up rivulets, and blasting 

 its path through forests, far away toward the 

 valley of the IMoselle, the sight of an object 

 for which was forgotten for the moment that 

 battle-field of the Titans at our feet, and all 

 the glorious panorama, Ilundsruck and Taunus, 

 Siebengebirge and Ardennes, and all the crater 

 peaks around ; and wliich was — smile not, reader 

 — our first yellow foxglove. 



IJut what is even this to the delight of finding 

 a new species? — of rescuing (as it seems to you) 

 one more thought of the divine mind from Ilcla, 

 and the realms of the unknown, unclassified, 

 uncomprehcndod ? As it seems to you : though 

 in reality it only seems so, in a world wherein 

 not a sparrow falls to the ground unnoticed by 

 our Father who is in heaven. 



The irutli is, the pleasure of finding new 



