96 SYLVAN WINTER. 



right into a road which., as we follow it, winds 

 round to the left, and then takes a sweep round 

 to the right. Here, just above us, now away to 

 our right, looms the steep height of Boxhill, 

 covered with its dark mantle of foliage. To get 

 to the foot of the hill and commence its toilsome 

 ascent we must cross a bridge, a peep over which 

 induces a momentary halt. The water below is 

 muddy and troubled by a flood, and the noise of 

 its course is heightened by its impact against the 

 trunk of a tree which has fallen across its course 

 from side to side, and thus impedes the hurrying 

 waters. A little way in front the stream is lost 

 from view as it bends round to the right. Its 

 right bank is margined by trees which observe 

 no regular mode of growth, but whose mossy and 

 lichen-covered boles are bent in different ways, 

 some back over the stream-side meadow on the 

 right, and some forward over the water. One 

 tree, rooted in the bank on the right, whose roots 

 have doubtless been loosened by the wash of the 

 stream, has fallen forward so far that its topmost 

 branches overhang the opposite stream-bank; 

 another in front has its trunk wrapped in a dense 



