6 NATURE NEAR LONDON. 



wont, or a wren. The spot where he was but a 

 second since may be traced by the trembling of the 

 leaves, but the keenest attention may fail to detect 

 where he is now. That slight motion in the hedge, 

 however, conveys an impression of something living 

 everywhere within. 



There are birds in the oaks overhead whose voice 

 is audible though they are themselves unseen. From 

 out of the mowing grass, finches rise and fly to the 

 hedge; from the hedge again others fly out, and, 

 descending into the grass, are concealed as in a forest. 

 A thrush travelling along the hedgerow just outside 

 goes by the gateway within a yard. Bees come upon 

 the light wind, gliding with it, but with their bodies 

 aslant across the line of current. Butterflies flutter 

 over the mowing grass, hardly clearing the bennets. 

 Many-coloured insects creep up the sorrel stems and 

 take wing from the summit. 



Everything gives forth a sound of life. The twitter- 

 ing of swallows from above, the song of greenfinches 

 in the trees, the rustle of hawthorn sprays moving 

 under the weight of tiny creatures, the buzz upon the 

 breeze; the very flutter of the butterflies' wings, 

 noiseless as it is, and the wavy movement of the 

 heated air across the field cause a sense of motion 

 and of music. 



The leaves are enlarging, and the sap rising, and 

 the hard trunks of the trees swelling with its flow ; 

 the grass blades pushing upwards; the seeds com- 

 pleting their shape ; the tinted petals uncurling. 

 Dreamily listening, leaning on the gate, all these are 

 audible to the inner senses, while the ear follows the 



