over several acres without
being seen, as if beneath a roof. And how soft and lovely the light
streaming through this living ceiling, revealing the arching branching
ribs and veins of the fronds as the framework of countless panes of pale
green and yellow plant-glass nicely fitted together--a fairyland created
out of the commonest fern-stuff.

The smaller animals wander about as if in a tropical forest. I saw the
entire flock of sheep vanish at one side of a patch and reappear a
hundred yards farther on at the other, their progress betrayed only by
the jerking and trembling of the fronds; and strange to say very few of
the stout woody stalks were broken. I sat a long time beneath the
tallest fronds, and never enjoyed anything in the way of a bower of wild
leaves more strangely impressive. Only spread a fern frond over a man's
head and worldly cares are cast out, and freedom and beauty and peace
come in. The waving of a pine tree on the top of a mountain,--a magic
wand in Nature's hand,--every devout mountaineer knows its power; but
the marvelous beauty value of what the Scotch call a breckan in a still
dell, what poet has sung this? It would seem impossible that any one,
however incrusted with care, could escape the Godful influence of these
sacred fern forests. Yet this very day I saw a shepherd pass through one
of the finest of them without betraying more feeling than his sheep.
"What do you think of these grand ferns?" I asked. "Oh, they're only
d----d big brakes," he replied.

Lizards of every temper, style, and color dwell here, seemingly as happy
and companionable as the birds and squirrels. Lowly, gentle fellow
mortals, enjoying God's sunshine, and doing the best they can in getting
a living, I like to watch them at their work and play. They bear
acquaintance well, and one likes them the better the longer one looks
into their beautiful, innocent eyes. They are easily tamed, and one soon
learns to love them, as they dart about on the hot rocks, swift as
dragon-flies. The eye can hardly follow them; but they never make
long-sustained runs, usually only about ten or twelve feet, then a
sudden stop, and as sudden a start again; going all their journeys by
quick, jerking impulses. These many stops I find are necessary as rests,
for they are short-winded, and when pursued steadily are soon out of
breath, pant pitifully, and are easily caught. Their bodies are more
than half tail, but these tails are well managed, neve