XXIV. 

 AU a u ST. 



THE plains and uplands are already green with a 

 second growth of vegetation. A new spring has com 

 menced among the tender herbs, and nature is rapidly 

 repairing the devastation 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-grass in the lowlands ; and the ill-fated 

 flowers of August may be seen lying upon the green 

 sward, among the prostrate herbage. The fields of 

 grain are bright with their golden maturity ; the work 

 of the reapers has commenced, and the sheaves of 

 wheat and rye, present to sight their waving rows to 

 gladden and to bless the husbandman. Flocks of quails, 

 reared since the decay of the spring flowers, are diligent 

 among the fields, after the reapers have left their tasks. 

 They may be seen slily and silently creeping along the 

 ground ; and now and then they lift up their timid 

 heads, as they are watching our approach. The loud 

 whistling of the guardian of the flock, perched at a 

 short distance upon a wall, may also be heard; and 

 occasionally, as we saunter carelessly along the field- 

 path, a brood of partridges, rising suddenly, almost from 



