44 A garden stored with Poesy, 

 Where flowers and herbs unite*** 



WORDSWORTH. 



SEPTEMBER 



T TOW still the year has grown we all have noticed, and the 

 " one faithful forerunner of Autumn the robin sings 

 tenderly Summer's requiem. Yet there is glad gold of flowers 

 in the garden, and " yellow-legged bees hum a dreamy lyric, 

 and the light on the brown wall is a great work of art ; and 

 the glitter through the leaves makes the pulses beat," as Olive 

 Schreiner somewhere observes. 



Many of my garden friends the birds have left me, and 

 the rest will hasten their departure with the first cold winds ; 

 but while Summer stays they will still be companions, at least, 

 so it seems. An observer of bird life says of this migratory 

 instinct in birds: "Some idea of the great power under- 

 lying the impulse to migrate may be gained when it is men- 

 tioned that swallows have been known to perish rather than 

 forsake their young in a fire, yet they will leave their second 

 callow brood in obedience to this mysterious instinct. The 

 force that is stronger than the devotion of motherhood must 

 indeed be great ! There is no evidence to prove that any of 

 our Summer visitors breed in their winter quarters with the 

 exception of the sand martin, so that doubtless the mere 

 desire to perpetuate the species governs the flight north. 

 This theory is based upon the fact that whilst the flight 

 south is led by young birds of the year, the journey north in 

 the Spring is led by old ones that have already known the 

 joys and cares of parenthood." 



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