CHAPTER III. 



FEKNS. 



"Beautiful Fern, 



Much have I loved, where thou art reared, in greenest strength to stray, 

 And mark thy feathery stem upraised o'er lichened ruin grey, 

 Or in the fairy moonlight bent, to meet the silvering hue, 

 Or glistening yet, when noon is high, with morn's unvanished dew." 



Hollings. 



EEENS spake next, and it seemed as if one rejoicing 

 chorus had burst from every cliff and stream-bank in the 

 lone wilderness. Children of the rock and flood are we, 

 they said, of heathy moors and hedge-banks ; our haunts 

 are frequently among the spray of waterfalls or cavern roofs, 

 beneath which the wild waves come and go. They sang 

 concerning the beauty of creation, of their own wild homes, 



