210 THE LAND'S END 



any one had ever attempted to paint that wonderful 

 sight just at their threshold the dead bracken among 

 the furze with the silvery-grey rain on it. 



On the higher slopes where the furze is less abund- 

 ant the bracken predominates, covering large areas 

 with its red tapestry, and on most days throughout 

 the winter it keeps its deep strong colour, owing to 

 the excessive amount of moisture in the air. It dis- 

 appears only when the new fern springs and spreads a 

 wave of monotonous green over the rough land and 

 well-nigh obliterates all other plant life. Only at 

 very long intervals there is another winter aspect of 

 the hills and moors, when they are whitened with a 

 heavy fall of snow. "About every ten years," 

 people say ; but although the weather was excep- 

 tionally cold in December, 1906, I had no hope of 

 witnessing that change, and going away to spend my 

 Christmas elsewhere missed the very thing I wanted 

 to see. It was not so much the sight of the hills in 

 their ghostly white I desired as the accompanying 

 phenomenon of the vast multitude of birds flying 

 from the fury of winter ; for whenever a wave of cold, 

 with snow, comes over the southern half of England, 

 the birds, wintering in myriads all over that part of 

 the country, are driven further west, and finally con- 

 centrate on the Cornish peninsula and stream down to 

 the very end of the land. 



No sooner had I gone away than the bitterly cold 

 weather with snow and sleet, which prevailed over a 

 great part of the country at Christmas, swept over 

 the southern and western counties and drove the 



