56 HANDY BOOK OF 
And the fern loved the mountain, the moss loved the moor, 
For the ferns were the rich, and the mosses the poor. 
But the keen blast blew bleakly, the sun waxed high 
Oh ! the ferns they were broken, and withered, and dry, 
And the moss on the moorland grew faded and pale ; 
And the fern and the moss shrank alike from the gale. 
So the fern on the mountain, the moss on the moor, 
Were wither' d and black where they flourish' d before. 
Then the fern and the moss they grew wiser in grief, 
And each turned to the other for rest and relief ; 
And they plann'd that wherever the fern-roots should grow, 
There surely the moss must lie sparkling below. 
And the keen blast blew bleakly, the sun waxed fierce 
But no winds and no sun to their cool roots could pierce. 
For the fern threw her shadow the green moss upon, 
Where the dew ever sparkled undried by the sun ; 
When the graceful fern trembled before the keen blast, 
The moss guarded her roots till the storm-wind had pass'd. 
So no longer the wind parch'd the roots of the one, 
And the other was safe from the rays of the sun. 
And thus, and for ever, where'er the ferns grow, 
There surely the mosses lie sparkling below ; 
And thus they both flourish where nought grew before, 
And both deck the woodland, the mountain, and moor. 
JUNE. 
"THE cave was very chill, and damp withal, 
And yet from out its lone depths shone a light 
So pure, unearthly, radiant, that no eye 
Might gaze unmoved upon it." 
Extracts from our Note-Book. 
June 4th. Visited a lonely granitic cavern on Dartmoor. 
The entrance was difficult, somewhat dangerous, in conse- 
quence of heavy rains, which had occasioned a considerable 
