294 THE LAND'S END 



claims my attention. Merely to name them, with just 

 a word or two added to characterise the special feeling 

 produced in each case, would fill a page or more ; 

 and the end of it all would be that the words used at 

 the beginning would have to be said again I think 

 the furze is the one which pleases me best. 



Now here is something which has been a puzzle to 

 me and a cause of regret, or a sense of something 

 missed the fact that, excepting a word or two or a 

 line about it in the poets, the furze is hardly to be 

 found in literature. Think of the oak in this connec- 

 tion ; think of the elm, the yew, the ash, the rowan, 

 the holly, hawthorn, blackthorn, bramble, briar, bul- 

 rush and flowering rush and heather, with many, many 

 more trees, bushes and herbs, down even to the little 

 pimpernel, the daisy, the forget-me-not and the lesser 

 celandine. But who, beyond the line or two, has 

 ever in verse or prose said anything in praise of the 

 furze ? 



One day, in conversation with Sir William Thisel- 

 ton-Dyer, the late Director of Kew Gardens, who 

 knows a great deal more of books about plants than I 

 do, I mentioned this fact to him, and, after taking 

 thought, he said, " It is true, there isn't much to 

 find, but let me recommend you to read Evelyn." 



It happened that I knew Evelyn and admired him 

 for his noble diction : one really wonders how a man 

 who looked at plants with his hard, utilitarian eyes, 

 considering them solely for their uses, could write as 

 he did. It is true that he saw some beauty in the 

 holly, his favourite, but in little else. He mentions 



