774 



THE NATURE BOOK 



Pucks and Robin Goodfellows and all 

 their eltish company ; with Robin Hood 

 and his merry men ; with all the nut 

 brown maids of all the ballads ; and with 

 Rosalind and Celia, Orlando, Jaques, and 

 many another of Shakespeare's wood- 

 landers. 



The visitor privileged to enter the Wil- 

 derness may see the trees, the bracken, 

 and the deer to-da}', with as much else as 

 his fancy ma\' suggest. He will also see. 

 in their season, flowers that seldom bless 

 the Londoner's sight — wood anemones, 

 wild hyacinths in the abundance which is 

 necessary for their proper effect, mulleins 

 both the great and the white, with 

 patches of Lenten lilies, either growing 

 wild or as strays from the gardens, the 

 blue eyes of the speedwell, and wild 

 strawberry blossoms among the moss. 



The highest expression of natural delight 

 can never be found in any park, public 

 or private. One must go to the wild for 

 it. The brook that dances and sings 

 its way down the mountain side, the 

 rowan that tosses its hair to the mountain 

 breeze, the mosses that cover the stones, 

 and the daisies which spring amongst 

 them ; these, with the primal freedom 

 of wide skies and unploughed earth, are 

 Nature's best, and have a greater power 

 to charm than all the pride of the 

 Dukeries. 



We have not, however, the mountains 

 here, but only Greenwich Hill ; no wild, 

 only a garden. Well, let us see how 

 our garden grows, and what, if anything, 

 can be gathered from it of the quality 

 which we desire. 



Well back on the hill plateau, the 

 gardens and groves which surround the 

 Ranger's House form the happiest hunting 

 ground for such a quest. The old house, 

 with its long, mellow-tinted front, facing 

 the sunrise, has an air of peaceful home- 

 liness, and gives proper character to the 

 smooth lawns and chastely ordered flower 

 beds. A little orchard lies at hand — 

 crooked trees knee-deep in grass, with 

 daffodils in early spring, and later white 

 with cow parsley ; beyond, the moving 

 forms of deer beneath the trees. 



A cedar grows upon the lawn, and, 

 with perhaps equal beauty and distinc- 

 tion, Scots firs, lifting their ruddy stems 

 into the sunshine. Great banks of rho- 

 dodendrons thrive in the gravel soil ; 

 sycamores with mottled bark, oaks as 

 yet unspoiled by London smoke, some 

 noble thorns, with undergrowth of ever- 

 greens, form covers for secluded alleys — 

 dark shadowed, yet streaked with beams 

 of sunshine. 



Pacing these walks, strolling about the 

 lawns, or sitting in the grateful warmth 

 of the early sun, the silence only broken 

 by the incessant stream of bird song, 

 that which is artificial in the scene begins 

 to count for less, and the natural for 

 more ; the notice boards, iron railings, 

 seats and other necessary afflictions sink 

 to something like their true insignificance, 

 and the pure joy of the morning, the glory 

 of the sky and the unconquerable beauty 

 of trees, begin to work their proper effect 

 upon the mind ; the shadows become 

 substances and the real shadowy ; and 

 by the time the postman and milkman 

 come bustling through the Park, one may 

 have well-nigh forgotten the everyday 

 prosaic state of existence, wherein the 

 fetching and carrying of messages, and 

 the supply of mere bodily wants, are, 

 perhaps justly, considered necessary 

 matters. Necessary, of course ; but how 

 well and hapj^ily sometimes forgotten. 

 This is the true leisure — the mind occu- 

 pied indeed, but occupied with matters 

 that, in a worldly sense, do not concern 

 us. " He that observeth the wind shall 

 not sow, and he that rcgardeth the clouds 

 shall not reap." WeU, we need not 

 always be sowing and reaping and gather- 

 ing into barns : better sometimes to be 

 idle and to dream ; to be enamoured of 

 the grace of tall elm tops stooping and 

 rising to the wind ; to be entertained by 

 the glitter of the brightly coloured beetle 

 amongst the grass blades ; to let the idle 

 sight follow the idle flitting of the butter- 

 fly ; and the ear listen to the faintest, 

 furthest going of the cuckoo's note, and 

 to watch for and to gather the first and 

 sweetest wild rose of the summer. 



Arthur Sc.^mmell. 



