94 FIRST FORMS OF VEGETATION. 
down the lichened trunks slowly and hesitatingly, 
as though, like children who stand at the mouth 
of some grim yawning cavern, they longed yet 
dreaded to enter. How applicable to this weird 
scene is the graphic description of an American 
forest, with which Longfellow opens his beautiful 
poem of “ Evangeline ”— 
‘*This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and 
the hemlocks, 
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in 
the twilight, 
Stand like Druids of old, with voices sad and prophetic; 
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their 
bosoms.” 
Weare more indebted to the humble lichens for the 
charming romance of our sylvan scenery than we im- 
agine ; for we are apt to overlook the minute plants 
by which much of the effect is produced. All who 
have any taste or poetical feeling admire the conspi- 
cuous beauties of awood—theclouds of green foliage 
overhead, the endless ramifications of the branches, 
the massiveness and elegance of the trunks, and the 
softness and richness of the grassy carpet under- 
neath ; but there are few, comparatively, who pay 
any attention to those minute varieties of tint 
and form contributed by the lower orders of 
vegetation—the starry flower, the plumy fern, or 
the umbrella-like fungus upon the ground, and 
the clustered moss and trailing lichen upon the 
