The Girls Own Paper, Vol. VIII, No. 355, October 16, 1886 | Page 2

in their swift course, but glancing
off unhurt from the collision, protected from injury by the stout coats of
mail which they wear.
They really look like unskilful dancers practising their "figures" for the
first time. They, however, are not engaged in mere amusement, but,
like the water-gnats, are absorbed in the business of life. The naturalist
knows, when he sees these creatures, that they do not form the
hundredth part of those which are hidden from human eyes below the
surface of the little brook, and that the whole of the stream is as instinct
with life, as if it had been haunted by the Nipens, the Undines, and the
host of fairy beings with whom the old legends peopled every river and
its tributaries.
They are just as wonderful, though clad in material forms, as any water
spirit that ever was evolved from the poet's brain, and have the
inestimable merit of being always within reach whenever we need
them.
I will venture to assert that no fairy tales, not even excepting those of
the "Arabian Nights," can surpass in marvel the true life-history of the
mayfly, the frog, the newt, and the dragon-fly, as will be narrated in the
course of these pages. I may go even farther, and assert that there is no

inhabitant of the brook and its banks whose biography and structure are
not full of absorbing interest, and will not occupy the longest life, if
only an attempt be made to study them thoroughly.
An almost typical example of slow-flowing brooks is to be found in the
remarkable channels which intersect the country between Minster and
Sandwich, and which, on the ordnance map, look almost like the
threads of a spider's web. In that flat district, the fields are not divided
by hedges, as in most parts of England, or by stone walls--"dykes," as
they are termed in Ireland--such as are employed in Derbyshire and
several other stony localities, but by channels, which have a strong
individuality of their own.
Even the smallest of these brooks is influenced by the tide, so that at
the two periods of slack water there is no perceptible stream.
Yesterday afternoon, having an hour or so to spare at Minster, I
examined slightly several of these streams and their banks. The contrast
between them and the corresponding brooklets of Oxford, also a
low-lying district, was very strongly marked.
In the first place, the willow, which forms so characteristic an ornament
of the brooks and rivers of Oxford, is wholly absent. Most of the
streamlets are entirely destitute of even a bush by which their course
can be marked; so that when, as is often the case, a heavy white fog
overhangs the entire district, looking from a distance as if the land had
been sunk in an ocean of milk, no one who is not familiarly acquainted
with every yard of ground could make his way over the fields without
falling into the watery boundaries which surround them.
Some of them, however, are distinguished by hawthorns, which take
the place of the willows, and thrive so luxuriantly that they may lay
claim to the title of forest trees. Blackberries, too, are exuberant in their
growth, and in many spots the hawthorn and blackberry on opposite
sides of the brook have intertwined their branches across it and have
completely hidden the water from sight. On these blackberries, the fruit
of which was in its green state, the drone-flies and hawk-flies simply
swarmed, telling the naturalist of their multitudinous successors, who at

present are in the preliminary stages of their existence.
Among the blackberries the scarlet fruit of the woody nightshade (a
first cousin of the potato) hung in tempting clusters, and I could not
help wondering whether they would endanger the health of the young
Minsterians.
In some places the common frog-bit had grown with such luxuriance
that it had completely hidden the water, the leaves overlapping each
other as if the overcrowded plants were trying to shoulder each other
out of the way.
In most of these streamlets the conspicuous bur-reed (_Spargánium
ramósum_) grew thickly, its singular fruit being here and there visible
among the sword-like leaves. I cannot but think that the mediæval
weapon called the "morning star" (or "morgen-stern") was derived from
the globular, spiked fruit-cluster of the bur-reed.
A few of the streams were full of the fine plant which is popularly
known by the name of bull-rush, or bulrush (Typha latifólia), but which
ought by rights to be called the "cat's-tail" or "reed-mace." Of this plant
it is said that a little girl, on seeing it growing, exclaimed that she never
knew before that sausages grew on sticks. The teasel (Dipsacus) was
abundant, as were also several of the true thistles.
In some places one