of many-hued corn-flowers I see the promise of coming lilies, the
sudden crimson of a solitary paeony; and in lowlier state against
the poor parched earth glow the golden cups of the eschseholtzias.
Beyond the low hedge lies pasture bright with buttercups, where the
cattle feed. Farther off, where the scythe has been busy, are
sheep, clean and shorn, with merry, well-grown lambs; and in the
farthest field I can see the great horses moving in slow steady
pace as the farmer turns his furrow.

The birds are noisy comrades and old friends, from the lark which
chants the dew-steeped morning, to the nightingale that breaks the
silence of the most wonderful nights. I hear the wisdom of the
rooks in the great elms; the lifting lilt of the linnet, and the
robin's quaint little summer song. The starlings chatter
ceaselessly, their queer strident voices harsh against the
melodious gossip of the other birds; the martins shrill softly as
they swoop to and fro busied with their nesting under the caves;
thrush and blackbird vie in friendly rivalry like the Meister-
singer of old; sometimes I hear the drawling cry of a peacock
strayed from the great house, or the laugh of the woodpecker; and
at night the hunting note of the owl reaches me as he sweeps by in
search of prey.

To-day I am out again; and the great sycamore showers honey and
flowers on me as I lie beneath it. Sometimes a bee falls like an
over-ripe fruit, and waits awhile to clean his pollen-coated legs
ere he flies home to discharge his burden. He is too busy to be
friendly, but his great velvety cousin is much more sociable, and
stays for a gentle rub between his noisy shimmering wings, and a
nap in the hollow of my hand, for he is an idle friendly soul with