298 VOICES FROM THE WOODLANDS. 



wide his leafless branches, and unable to offer the least 

 shelter to even a small wayfaring bird or shivering field- 

 mouse. 



Hence it happens that I am frequently removed from 

 my solitary growing-place to parks and shrubberies, and 

 admired by great ones as they pass. My dwarf brother 

 occasionally grows beside me, but more generally on Alpine 

 pastures among rocks and waterfalls, where his red berries 

 are eagerly sought after by the weary Highlander. 



Behold, said the gatteridge, or spindle-tree, in my four- 

 celled capsules and purple seeds a beautiful example of 

 that inherent power which causes the outer covering to 

 expand at an appointed time. My petals are greenish- 

 white ; they have nothing of outward beauty to commend 

 them ; and yet none among the brightest or the loveliest 

 of spring flowers are more simply obedient to the laws of 

 nature. I open to April's showers, and her wandering 

 sunbeams, when first the primrose and the harebell, the 

 violet and herb-Bobert, welcome back the cuckoo and 



