File:The New Forest (1904) (14751013596).jpg

Identifier: newforest00rawnrich (find matches)
Title: The New Forest
Year: 1904 (1900s)
Authors: Rawnsley, Alice Julia Argles
Subjects: New Forest (England : Forest)
Publisher: London, A. and C. Black
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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Text Appearing Before Image:
there a foxglove unfolded its pink buds beside the
path ; out again into open forest, where broad oaks
sheltered us from the sun, and where the bracken
gTew thickly, but standing back where its masses
were intersected by narrow grassy tracks. Here
we espied numbers of graceful, tall butterfly
orchises, hiding under the bracken fronds, but
their greenish-white spikes easily to be seen, if one
stooped down amongst the fern; and how fairy-
like a vision it is to kneel low down amid the
fern, rig) it under it, and to look along the tall,
slender, gray-green stems, far away into the
distance, and to see the carpet of yellow and pinkv
etches, the tall creamy-white butterfly orchis,
sweet of scent, the pink heather, the yellow cinque-
foil, and many other shy blossoms that love to hide
under the shade of the bracken ! Look down upon
it from above, and nothing of them is to be seen,
only the broad, meeting dark-green leaves.
The sun gleamed and glinted on the broad
bracken fronds, making them now a clear green,
like emeralds, now gray or white where they
reflected the sky. Tennyson has recorded this
effect of bracken in the sunlight, as will be seen
from a short extract out of "Pelleas and Ettare".

FOXGLOVES IN THE ENCLOSURE
JUNE.
Text Appearing After Image:
JUNE 57

' Near him a mound of even-sloping side,
Whereon a hundred stately beeches grew,
And here and there great hollies under them ;
But for a mile all round was open space
And fern and heath ; . . . . . .
Through that green-glooming twilight of the grove
It seemed to Pelleas that the fern without
Burnt as a living fire of emeralds,
So that his eyes were dazzled looking at it. '

The scent of the aromatic, pale orchis was in the
air, a woodpecker flitted from one low thorn-bush
to another, butterflies—sulphur, tortoiseshell, and
white—spread out their wings mde upon the warm
fern—everything was basking in the fresh, match
-less June sunshine, and this was a delectable spot
to enjoy it in. Have we not all an ideal place of
this sort in our minds, that we long to return to
each year as the season comes round, sure that
only there can June be seen in its full beauty, and
the sunshine, the hawthorn flower, the orchis, and
fern, and foxgloves, ever and always are to be
found and delighted in there ? But to contin

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