LICHENS. 93 
pyramid-like foliage, like the snowy blossoms of 
some unknown fruit-tree. It is impossible to enter 
a pine forest adorned with a profusion of these 
curious plants, without admiring the wild and 
picturesque appearance which it presents. The 
hoary trees seem like an assembly of aged bearded 
Druids, metamorphosed by some awful spell while 
in the act of worshipping their mysterious deity ; 
while the feelings of solemn awe and reverence with 
which we regard them are rendered more intense 
and overpowering by the dread silence, the utter 
solitude that reigns around—a silence broken only 
by the low, deep, sybilline sigh of the wind among 
the tree-tops; the faint crackling sound of the 
falling pine-cones; or perchance, at rare intervals, 
the wild, melancholy cries of some little wander- 
ing bird afraid to find itself alone in such a dreary 
place, multiplied with startling distinctness through 
the forest as they pass along from echo to echo. 
Perhaps a red-deer stands gazing at you, with 
large inquiring eyes, at the end of a long vista 
between the red trunks of the trees; but as you gaze, 
it glides away into a deeper solitude as noiselessly 
and as mysteriously as it came; and the very 
sunbeams, that elsewhere dance and sport with 
the wavering shadows, and chase each other in 
long links of golden light over the mossy sward, 
creep through the dense canopy overhead, and 
