OCTOBER THE WITCHING 47 



that fateful year, and the intervening bush was dry, 

 parched, and strangely inhospitable. Under those 

 circumstances, was it surprising that the young 

 people greeted snowy blossom and green grass with 

 all the gratefulness of travellers at an oasis? 



Beautiful under the lancing rays of the morning 

 sun, the old orchard is a hymn of delight at evening, 

 when the cooler air draws a richer fragrance from 

 the flowers, and the gathering dusk evokes the lir- 

 ruping lullaby of Madge, the solemn merriment of 

 the Kookaburras, the reflective "sweet pretty crea- 

 ture" of the Wagtail, and the calmly-resigned semi- 

 tone of the Ishmaelitish Pallid Cuckoo. And what 

 of the night, when the Puck-like spirit of October, 

 revelling in the old orchard, "sprinkles its buds, in 

 beneficent floods, to gladden the way of the moon?" 

 Surely a fit place (the more so if there chance to be 

 vines and pomegranates) for our Hellenistic Hugh 

 McCrae to foregather with the shade of his beloved 

 Herrick, there to watch stars flutter through the 

 blossoms : 



. . . till the still 



Deep moon lay down her bowl of silver light 

 Below these lilies near the orchard hill. 



As a matter of course, October is the month when 

 birds resort to the orchard for nesting purposes. 

 The whistling Whitethroat of the rufous breast is 

 there in September, but it is not until little leaves 

 are twinkling on the erstwhile bare boughs that the 

 Whistler, the Wagtail, and the sweet-voiced Gold- 

 finch can find the shelter necessary for the safety 

 of their little homes. This pretty imported Finch 

 is apparently constant to gardens and parks for 

 home sites (though its fellow-Britisher, the Black- 



