whirl round in the air with graceful, shell-like convolutions as they
descend, part separating, for no reason apparently, and forming a second
flock which goes away over the copse. There is hardly any farm-work
going on, excepting in the ditches, which are being cleaned in readiness
for the overflow when the thirsty ground shall have sucked its fill.
Under a bank by the roadside a couple of men employed in carting stone
for road-mending are sitting on a sack eating their dinner. The roof of
the barn beyond them is brilliant with moss and lichens; it has not been
so vivid since last February. It is a delightful time. No demand is
made for ecstatic admiration; everything is at rest, nature has nothing
to do but to sleep and wait.



THE BREAK-UP OF A GREAT DROUGHT



For three months there had been hardly a drop of rain. The wind had
been almost continuously north-west, and from that to east.
Occasionally there were light airs from the south-west, and vapour rose,
but there was nothing in it; there was no true south-westerly breeze,
and in a few hours the weather-cock returned to the old quarter. Not
infrequently the clouds began to gather, and there was every sign that a
change was at hand. The barometer at these times fell gradually day
after day until at last it reached a point which generally brought
drenching storms, but none appeared, and then it began slowly to rise
again and we knew that our hopes were vain, and that a week at least
must elapse before it would regain its usual height and there might be a
chance of declining. At last the disappointment was so keen that the