110 IN AN OLD DESERTED GARDEN— 
see a cock, look for the hen also. They do 
not migrate. 
The garden contained a large shubbery 
of llac, guelder-rose, may, laburnum, elder, 
apple, cherry, nuts and other bushes. Some 
hops and out-door grape-vines grew promis- 
cuously together to a height of fifteen feet. 
Other parts were devoted to vegetables, the 
whole being surrounded by a high wall con- 
structed of those red bricks that used to be 
made years ago, and which were now crumb- 
ling. Winding paths led through the shrub- 
bery to right and left, but they were now 
so overgrown and weedy that their outlines 
had well-nigh disappeared. High up in an 
apple tree a thrush sat upon her nest, her 
tail being plainly visible overlapping it. We 
could just see her head, and she detected us, 
and kept her eyes steadily on our movements, 
but did not fly off. Just here some bluebells 
were flourishing grandly in the good loamy 
soil, enriched by years of fallen leaves, which 
had been allowed to rot as they fell. The 
stalks of the flowers measured two feet in 
