202 
THE ORIENTAL ANNUAL. 
the primrose, the buttercup, and wild anemone, 
with countless varieties of the orchis tribe, throng 
every bank ; the wild thyme, and the tall feathering 
fern, clothe the steep mountain side ; while here the 
dog-rose, there the flowering woodbine, come peering 
through the clustered shrubs, to seek the genial 
sunshine. The woods are carpeted with familiar 
mosses and lichens, in endless variety of tints, down 
to the very edge of the prattling streamlet, which, 
dashing through the downward glen, gathers a 
thousand springs in its devious chase, until it 
plunges, a gushing torrent of foam, over some hang- 
ing precipice. Now, intercepted in its giddy flight 
by a projecting rock, the broad volume is scattered 
into many broken channels, and creeps away through 
the sheltering underwoods ; now, in numberless 
cataracts, it once more leaps a jutting cliff, and 
mingles all its waters in a foaming pool. How 
unlike India ! In all of these, in every light, in 
every shadow, a host of airy tongues whisper the 
names of places and of people which all dissolve 
into that one word, Home. Yet soon the vision 
fades, as the eye follows the course of the swelling- 
stream. Away it glides in a soft murmuring current, 
more broad, more smooth, more slow, through 
darkening shores, through sultry forests, and the 
desert wild, down to the basking plains. But a 
hasty glance, a hasty thought, of perils past and 
miseries escaped, refills the measure of delight, and 
