ENGLISH WOODS : A CONTRAST. 43 



fact, an entirely different atmosphere and presence. 

 Dry leaves cover the ground, delicate ferns and 

 mosses drape the rocks, shy delicate flowers gleam 

 out here and there, the slender brown wood-frog leaps 

 nimbly away from your feet, the little red newt fills 

 its infantile pipe, or hides under a leaf, the ruffed 

 grouse bursts up before you, the gray squirrel leaps 

 from tree to tree, the wood-pewee utters its plaintive 

 cry, the little warblers lisp and dart amid the 

 branches, and sooner or later the mosquito demands 

 his fee. Our woods suggest new arts, new pleasures, 

 a new mode of life. English parks and groves, when 

 the sun shines, suggest a perpetual picnic, or Maying 

 party ; but no one, I imagine, thinks of camping out 

 in English woods. The constant rains, the darkened 

 skies, the low temperature, make the interior of a 

 forest as uninviting as an underground passage. I 

 wondered what became of the dry leaves that are 

 such a feature and give out such a pleasing odor in 

 our woods. They are probably raked up and carried 

 away; or, if left upon the ground, are quickly re- 

 solved into mould by the damp climate. 



While in Scotland, I explored a large tract of 

 wood-land mainly of Scotch fir, that covers a hill 

 near Ecclefechan, but it was grassy and uninviting. 

 In one of the parks of the Duke of Hamilton, 1 

 found a deep wooded gorge through which flowed 

 the river Avon (I saw four rivers of this name in 

 Great Britain), a branch of the Clyde, a dark rock- 

 paved stream, the color of brown stout. It was the 



