AUGUST. 



THE plains and uplands are green with a second growth 

 of vegetation, and nature is rapidly repairing the devas- 

 tation committed by the scythe of the mower. But the 

 work of the haymaker is not completed. He is still 

 swinging his scythe among the tall sedge-grasses in the 

 lowlands ; and the ill-fated flowers of August may be 

 seen lying upon the greensward among the prostrate 

 herbage. The work of the reapers is also begun, and 

 the sheaves of wheat and rye display their wavy rows 

 to gladden and bless the husbandman. Flocks of quails, 

 reared since the opening of the spring flowers, are dili- 

 gent among the fields, after the reapers have left their 

 tasks. They may be seen slyly and silently creeping 

 along the ground, and now and then lifting their timid 

 heads as if jealous of our approach. The loud whistling 

 of the guardian of the flock, perched at a short distance 

 upon a wall, may also be heard, and as we saunter care- 

 lessly along the field-path, a brood of partridges, rising 

 suddenly almost from under our feet, will often astound 

 our ears with their loud whirring flight. 



Since the fading of the roses, the birds have generally 

 become silent, as if the presence of these flowers were 

 necessary to inspire them with song. They have grown 

 timid and have forsaken their usual habits, no longer 

 warbling at the season's feast or rejoicing in the heyday 

 of love. They fly no longer in pairs, but assemble in 

 flocks, which may be seen rising and settling over differ- 

 ent parts of the landscape. Some species are irregularly 



