132 MY DEVON YEAR 



into small backwaters. Here, also, that gay foreigner, 

 the monkey-flower, shall sometimes be met with. He 

 has now wisely settled amongst us, and finds Devon 

 meet all his requirements ; while near neighbours are 

 the yellow rocket, and skull-cap, and meadow-sweet. 

 An orchis or two — the early purple, the spotted hand- 

 orchis, the marsh-orchis and the lesser butterfly-orchis 

 — may be found in such a moist corner also ; and 

 the rare sweet cicely haunts one lonely spot under the 

 Moor. In rocky walls grow pale English stonecrop, 

 yellow wall-pepper, and navel-wort, while perhaps a 

 red raspberry twinkles from tall canes in the hedge 

 above them. The yarrow, of course, climbs to any 

 height Devon can give it; the sneeze-wort, its kinsman, 

 loves lane or wayside, where it flaunts with the mug- 

 wort and silvery wormwood, the groundsel and its 

 brother the ragwort. Golden tansy likewise loves 

 such a home ; and sometimes, above the devil's-bit 

 scabious in a damp corner, the comfrey will spread a 

 deep green clump, and hang aloft white or livid bells in 

 miniature chimes. Grasses, too, soften and drape each 

 bank, and the little wood-rush strays among them. 



Hither come the moor creatures and the birds that 

 love the uplands. Foxes trot down these lonely lanes 

 by night ; wind-blown crows poke and pry here on 

 stormy days, and the weasel and snake-like stoat are 

 familiar sights. Above them the great woodpecker 

 laughs upon his undulating way in air, and the magpie 

 clatters his castanets. He is but a feeble flier, and of 

 all winged contrasts you may find none more marked 



