The Rambles of an Idler 



a sandy foundation have found themselves seri- 

 ously shaken. The surface is stable. Not all 

 sand is forever shifting. There is no evidence 

 of change except of minor extent, as an occa- 

 sional landslide of a few yards. The roots of 

 the oaks have defied the wind and rain. The 

 soil is poor, as soils are considered by the ag- 

 riculturist. Neither grain nor vegetables would 

 grow here, even with abundant sunshine and 

 moisture to urge them on ; but trees have grown 

 and are now in full vigor. Some of the oaks 

 were acorns more than two centuries ago. 

 There is surely some hidden source of fertility 

 that sustains the forest, and barred by the 

 shadows of its leafless branches is that floor 

 which to-day is so inviting. Moss bears the re- 

 lation to grass that age bears to youth, or as 

 sober contemplation to the passing idle thought. 

 Moss is as dignified as any aged oak. They are 

 congenial friends, seldom apart. What the tree 

 is to the landscape, so is the moss to the ground 

 upon which we tread. 



But there is more upon the ground than moss. 

 Looking yet closer about me and recalling very 

 distinctly what I have seen at other times, I 

 find much that should be mentioned. The acorns 



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