134 
BRAMBLES AND BAY LEAVES. 
homesteads; down a steep hill which gave us another 
view of the splendid country we had crossed before, and 
“ up hill and down dale,” about three miles, brought us 
back to the Goffers Oak again. Tea,—Oh, how 
delicious ! Arranged botanical specimens, and “■ between 
whiles,” peeped in at the basketful of jet blackberries, 
and thought of pie crust, sable jam, scalding syrup, and 
the children in the wood. 
Six days pass, and each seems more beautiful than its 
predecessor, till warned of anxieties and cares, and know¬ 
ing that commercial interests permit us not without stint 
to pluck Blackberries for ourselves, we take train, and 
are once more in a region not of Blackberries, but black 
bricks, and cold stones, and colder hearts, amid— 
“ The weariness, the fever, and the fret, 
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan, 
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last grey hairs, 
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; 
Where hut to think is to he full of sorrow 
And leaden-eyed despairs ; 
Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, 
Or new Love pine at them beyond to morrow.” 
There's the bell for dinner. Avaunt! I smell the 
Blackberries—the atmosphere is changed to nectar, and 
the sunshine stained with sanguine streaks, as I toss a 
libation of the ruby juice to heaven, and shout, “ The 
Land of Blackberries for ever ! 39 
