FLOCKS OF BIRDS 



A CERTAIN road leading outwards from a suburb, 

 enters at once among fields. It soon passes a thick 

 hedge dividing a meadow from a cornfield, in which 

 hedge is a spot where some bluebells may be found in 

 spring. Wild flowers are best seen when in masses, 

 a few scattered along a bank much concealed by 

 grass and foliage are lost, except indeed, upon those 

 who love them for their own sake. 



This meadow in June, for instance, when the butter- 

 cups are high, is one broad expanse of burnished 

 gold. The most careless passer-by can hardly fail 

 to cast a glance over acres of rich yellow. The 

 furze, again, especially after a shower has refreshed 

 its tint, must be seen by all. Where broom grows 

 thickly, lifting its colour well into view, or where the 

 bird's-foot lotus in full summer overruns the thin grass 

 of some upland pasture, the eye cannot choose but 

 acknowledge it. So, too, with charlock, and with hill 

 sides purple with heath, or where the woodlands are 

 azure with bluebells for a hundred yards together. 

 Learning from this, those who would transplant wild 

 flowers to their garden should arrange to have as many 

 as possible of the same species close together. 



The bluebells in this hedge are unseen, except by 

 the rabbits. The latter have a large burrow, and until 



the grass is too tall, or after it is cut or grazed, can be 



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