91 



X. 



GUELDER ROSE. 



CoiMiNG out here into the alder copse this 

 bright breezy summer evening, in search of 

 the sweet-scented butterfly orchids which 

 grow so abundantly in the marshy spots 

 beside the bourne, I have not only gathered 

 a thick handful of those quaint green-tipped 

 spiky flowers themselves, but have also 

 lighted unexpectedly upon the first full-blown 

 guelder rose of the season. The bush hangs 

 out of the hedge which severs the copse from 

 the Four Acre ; and my eye was attracted a 

 hundred yards off by the great bunches of 

 snow-white blossom, drooping in massive 

 trusses from the long sprays that outgrow the 



