MOORLAND IDYLLS. 



We lay beside a clump of tall flaming 

 rose-bay fire-weed, as they call it over 

 yonder in America. There, in the great 

 woodlands, on whose lap I was nursed, a 

 wandering child of the primeval forest, you 

 may see whole vast sheets of that flam- 

 boyant willow-herb covering the ground for 

 miles on bare glades in the pinewood. 

 Most visitors fancy it gets its common 

 American name from its blaze of colour ; 

 and, indeed, it often spreads like a sea of 

 flame over acres and acres of hillside to- 

 gether. But the prosaic backwoodsman 

 gave it its beautiful title for a more practical 

 reason : because it grows apace wherever a 

 forest fire has killed out and laid waste the 

 native vegetation. Like most of the willow- 

 herbs, it has a floating seed winged with 

 cottony threads, which waft it through the 

 air on pinions of gossamer ; and thus it 

 alights on the newly burnt soil, and springs 

 up amain after the first cool shower. Within 

 twelve months it has almost obliterated the 

 114 



