104 NATURE NEAR LONDON. 



THE CROWS. 



ON one side of the road immediately after quitting 

 the suburb there is a small cover of furze. The 

 spines are now somewhat browned by the summer 

 heats, and the fern which grows about every bush 

 trembles on the balance of colour between green and 

 yellow. Soon, too, the tall wiry grass will take a 

 warm brown tint, which gradually pales as the 

 autumn passes into winter, and finally bleaches to 

 greyish white. 



Looking into the furze from the footpath, there are 

 purple traces here and there at the edge of the fern 

 where the heath-bells hang. On a furze branch, 

 which projects above the rest, a furze chat perches, 

 with yellow blossom above and beneath him. Bushes 

 mark the margin of small pools and marshy spots, 

 so overhung with brambles and birch branches, and 

 so closely surrounded by gorse, that they would not 

 otherwise be noticed. 



But the thick growth of rushes intimates that water 

 is near, and upon parting the bushes a little may 

 be seen, all that has escaped evaporation in the 

 shade. From one of these marshy spots I once and 

 once only observed a snipe rise, and after wheeling 



