DOWN THE BECK 29 



artist and poet. Bound this beck there are, indeed, 

 no ferns tufting each projecting shelf, and seizing 

 upon every bare stone and decayed tree. East 

 Anglian scenery is wofully deficient in this element 

 of the picturesque ; but wild flowers gem its banks, 



" Thick set with agate and the azure sheen 

 Of turkis blue and emerald green 

 That in the channel strays." 



At every turn the marsh marigold blazes in 

 brilliant golden clumps, while the water violet and 

 bladder wort, most curious of our water- weeds, find 

 place round many of the deeper pools. Overhead, 

 too, hoary willows lend a great charm to the 

 scenery, and patriarchal thorn bushes, that glitter 

 with snow-flowers every May, and wonder at re- 

 turning winter as they view their whiteness re- 

 flected below, while abundance of forget-me-nots, 

 " for happy lovers," seek the most retired spots. 

 Too often in the south of the county, as, for 

 instance, round Croyland Abbey, lines of melan- 

 choly poplars disfigure the prospect, as they do 

 (alas ! did) round Metz, Avignon, and other French 

 towns. It is curious, by the way, that so vivacious 

 a people as the French should be fond of this, the 

 most triste of trees. Here, however, willows are in 

 exact keeping with the landscape ; and as they 

 turn the glaucous under-surface of their leaves to 



