FLOWERS OF THE SUN 225 



side colony had held its own, through the perilous 

 dark ages of thoughtlessness, until the awakening of 

 intelligence in the cause of bird protection. An 

 osprey sailed majestically across to his fishing -grounds 

 beyond the beach, and a myriad of tiny warblers 

 flitted on before us, darting in and out of the 

 blossoming Grape-vines, whose fragrance wafted 

 from overhanging trees and followed us from leafy 

 trails along the fence -rails. Beside the runnel, that 

 was outlined by Ferns and the unopened flowers of 

 Water Hemlock, great masses of the stalwart Cow 

 Parsnip held its broad white -flowered umbels on 

 six-foot stems. Once a quail mounted an old fence 

 post and called "Bob White!" hurriedly, three or 

 four times, disappearing in the brush without wait- 

 ing for a reply. 



We did not speak, Flower Hat and I, but 

 continued to where the lane ended in the open 

 fields. There, before we had quite left the shelter 

 of the last tree, Nell instinctively stopped, while 

 Flower Hat drew in her breath and released it 

 slowly in a sigh of pleasure. To define the differ- 

 ent tints of green alone, that were blended by the 

 sun and an almost imperceptible sea -mist, would 

 require an artist, both in temperament and words; 

 yet these greens were but as the settings to the 



