many an evening's fishing has he spoilt ; and 

 the churr-r-r-r of the nightjar, 



" The busy dorhawk chasing the white moth 

 With burring note — " 



These, wherever we hear them, recall some 

 pleasant hour spent on the Dart's banks. 

 But we are digressing. 



After entering the lodge gates (where by 

 the by we lingered awhile to get a peep at 

 the picturesque windings of the stream, with 

 the Church, Castle, and Bridge, in the back- 

 ground — one of the prettiest views in the 

 neighborhood), a walk of a couple of miles 

 through the beautiful grounds of Sharpham, 

 brought us to the wood in question. Here 

 indeed was plenty to gladden our heart ! On 

 every side, the thrush and other of our 

 songsters poured forth their delightful 

 strains : here, the soft sweet note of the 

 hedge accentor ; and there, the evening song 

 of the robin — that 



4i Plaintive warbler with the ruddy breast." 



Now we were startled by the loud clap clap of 

 the wood-pigeon, as we disturbed him from 

 his haunts in some fir-tree high above; and 

 at a distance, the happy cooing of its mates 

 met our ear. The luxuriance of the ferns 

 here was greater than we have ever observed 

 elsewhere, from the shadiness of the wood, 

 and the great annual deposit of leaves. 

 The noble male fern drooped side by side 

 with the delicate and graceful lady, above 

 four feet in height ; and the exquisite fertile 

 and barren fronds of the hard fern (Blechnum), 

 covered the woods in all directions. The 

 love of ferns- appears to be universal ; 

 and much pleasure does it afford us to see so 

 many of our botanical friends forming fern- 

 eries, and cultivating wild flowers. We 

 venture to prophesy much happiness result- 

 ing therefrom; believing, as we do, with 

 Newman, that " Ferns constitute so beau- 

 tiful a portion of the creation — whether they 

 ornament our ruins with their light and 

 graceful foliage, wave their bright tresses 

 from our weather-beaten rocks, or clothe 

 with evergreen verdure our forests and our 

 hedgerows — that it seems next to impossible 

 to -behold them without experiencing emo- 

 tions of pleasure." 



In this wood, is an extensive rookery ; 

 and at the extreme end, a heronry ; the 

 rooks having quarrelled with the herons, and 

 driven them from their quarters. Both are 

 strictly preserved, we understand, by the 

 present owner. This is the only heronry 

 in the neighborhood, but we have known a 

 pair occasionally build in North Wood, 

 about two miles above Totnes, where we 

 were once witness to an amusing fight 

 between two rooks and a heron on the 

 wing, the former being victorious and com- 

 pelling him to quit their neighborhood. We 



are of opinion with Mr. Thompson, in his 

 " Birds of Ireland," that herons do feed by 

 night ; for often, when sailing on the Dart 

 on a bright night, we have seen them on the 

 sand banks ; and we believe too, that their 

 destruction of fish is far less than is gene- 

 rally believed, a considerable portion of 

 their food consisting of rats and frogs. 



Rambling along by the river's banks we 

 reached Duncannon, which is on the opposite 

 side of the water. The walls here were covered 

 with the delicate English stone-crop, well 

 known by its white flowers and pink stems. 

 It is also very abundant on the river wall in 

 Sharpham Marsh, with the pellitory of the 

 wall — a plant which was formerly in great 

 repute as a medicine. The pennywort too, 

 so rare in some counties, was plentiful here ; 

 and the most showy of our wild plants, the 

 foxglove. In Ireland, it is called the luss- 

 more, and the " fairy herb of the mountain ;" 

 and was frequently used to test supposed 

 " supernatural possession." Near the junc- 

 tion of the Harburn with the Dart, we no- 

 ticed many specimens of spiked Speedwell, 

 said to be rare in Devon ; and a while variety 

 of the herb Robert, or " poor Robin." The 

 G-uelderRose was just unfolding its handsome 

 flowers, and the Cornel, or dogwood, was 

 abundant everywhere. Plutarch tells us that 

 Romulus, to try his strength, once threw a 

 epear, the shaft of winch was made of cornel 

 wood, from Mount Aventine to' the bottom 

 of the Palatine Hill, the head of which 

 stuck so deep in the ground, that no one 

 could pull it out, though many tried. We 

 learn further, that the soil being rich, so 

 nourished the wood that it shot forth 

 branches, and became of a considerable size. 

 This was preserved as a thing eminently 

 sacred, and a wall built around it ; and 

 when any one that approached, saw it was 

 not flourishing, he proclaimed it to all he 

 met ! who, as if they were summoned to 

 assist at a fire, ran with full vessels to the 

 place from all quarters. 



In the hedgerows we gathered field -straw- 

 berries, which we espied 



" Lurking in the mossy shade." 

 An owl which flew by, recalled a beautiful 

 remark of Professor Wilson's — " How se- 

 renely beautiful their noiseless flight ! * A 

 flake of snow is not winnowed through the 

 air more softly silent." 



As we bent our steps homeward, 



" Lovely the moonlight was, as it glanced and 

 gleamed on the water;" 



and we did in truth feel, with Wordsworth, 

 that 



" One impulse from a vernal wood 

 May toach us more of man, — 

 Of moral evil, and of good, 

 Than all the sages can." 

 June 30, 1852. 



