120 OUR WOODLAND TREES. 
now surrounded by glorious Trees, anon getting 
some distant peep of woodland. Now, in the open 
sun-lit glade, we breathe the sweet fragrance of the 
Honeysuckle, twining its creeping stem around the 
contorted body of some stalwart Hawthorn ; now, 
passing for a moment under the deep shelter of 
Trees, we scent the sweet mysterious perfume of 
the wild briar. How often have we unavailingly 
searched for this beautiful shrub, whose fragrance 
appears to come and go with strange irregularity ! 
Passing through some forest undergrowth, we 
have been arrested by the exquisite fragrance of 
the sweet-briar suddenly bursting upon us from 
what direction we knew not. Some leaves of dog- 
rose have perhaps been near; and, momentarily 
deceived by the similarity of form, we have handled 
them to detect, if possible, by pressure the sweet 
scent which has attracted us. But we discover it 
is not the perfumed briar which we handle; and 
though we have searched far and near, the deli- 
cious fragrance of the thorny shrub meanwhile 
coming to us from time to time in sweet spasmodic 
gusts, we have frequently failed to discover its 
whereabouts. 
