THE PAETEIDGE 



II 



The Summer Life of the Partridge 



IT was June, and Nature stood on the thresh- 

 old of summer. The crab-apple bloom had 

 fallen ; the earhest dandehon seeds had drifted 

 away. The swifts, from their nests under the 

 eaves of the farmstead, flew wheeling and 

 screaming high in the trackless sky. Out beyond 

 the furze-clad hedgerow, the young wheat grew 

 rapidly, hiding with its rich greenery the ex- 

 panse of brown plough-land. Already the mother- 

 ing hare had worn a trackway between the 

 stalks from her " form '' on a neighbouring bank 

 to the gateway by the lane ; and the finches and 

 the yellowhammers often led their fledglings 

 thither to a sanctuary where, under the arching 

 verdure, they were safe from hawk and weasel 

 as they wandered to and fro in search of food. 

 The day wore peacefully away, and the hen 

 partridge, brooding over her eggs on the nest by 

 the ditch, closed her eyes to the bright sunlight 

 and fell asleep. She was awakened by a faint 



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