THE FERNY MOORLANDS. 
graceful waving Ferns, and the brawling river, 
combine to make an exquisite picture. 
After a peep at the bridge scenery, we followed 
a path which led down to the left, along by the 
river side. Huge granite boulders were scattered 
about in mid stream ; and some of these, clustered 
in the form of a rocky islet, were approachable 
from the river- side by stepping-stones which 
offered a dry passage for the tourist. On this 
boulder islet we rested for refreshment— the cool 
stream flowing on each side of us gurgling and 
splashing and flashing in the sun, the calm surface 
of its silent pools, where the current was pent by 
the rocks, being broken only from time to time 
by the splash of the rising trout, as they dashed 
at the flies which skimmed the surface of the 
water. From this point, on the same side of the 
bridge, a path skirted for a short way the brawl- 
ing course of the stream. We followed this path 
for some distance, and we found that it was a 
walk that would well repay the Fern hunter for a 
long journey across rugged moorlands. It is 
indeed almost impossible to express in words the 
keen sense of enjoyment experienced during so 
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