BY TWILIGHT. 155 
Now we plunge into the wood and press 
through glades densely covered with tall forms of 
bracken, and carpeted with wild flowers. Anon 
we cross a brooklet, on whose banks the Alders 
cluster amidst bracken six feet high, and 
through a cloud of fragrance caused by the 
mingled perfume of Honeysuckle and the sweet 
lemon-scented breath of large masses of moun- 
tain Buckler fern. 
But the shadows of evening are falling fast, 
and though we had started on our ramble under 
the unerring guidance of our compass and are 
making due north, we have yet a considerable 
distance to travel before we shall come upon a 
road. Our northward progress to the road above 
the uplands is now barred by a Crown enclosure, 
and we have to diverge for a long distance in a 
westerly direction, until, rounding the enclosure, 
we can again strike northwards. 
How strangely beautiful is this woodland 
ramble! How impressive for the genuine lover 
of Nature! Now, as the daylight fades, the wood- 
land sounds—the sweet melodies of the birds— 
are momentarily hushed. There is an almost 
