THE PASSING OF SUMMER 



THE time of dahlias being at hand, the gardener sets his 

 traps for earwigs, with little heed of the 

 Mother mother earwig's need of his dahlia petals 

 Earwig for food for her young, or of her devotion 

 in climbing the tall stalks with the intention 

 of converting the petals into a kind of dahlia porridge. 

 She is credited with all a hen's solicitude for her chicks. 

 Laying the eggs near a plant about to blossom, the ear- 

 wig sits on the clutch, hatches a score or more of white 

 offspring, and broods over them with the devotion of a 

 partridge. She warns them of danger by striking the 

 ground with her antennas, as the rabbit thumps with its 

 hind legs. The garden robin, by the way, is a mighty 

 earwig hunter. 



Now with treble soft, " The redbreast whistles from a 

 garden-croft " for the week has brought 

 Robin's us to the opening of the robin's autumn 

 Autumn song-season. He sings quietly to-day, often 

 Ode in an undertone; it is as if a flute-player, 



after an illness, should reach his hand for 

 the flute not touched for many weeks, to try over a few 

 notes. Robin has been feeling sorry for himself, and 

 has been skulking in hiding, while moulting. Though 

 he is back in his old garden haunt, times are still 

 anxious; his young grow apace, though some have yet 

 to sport red waistcoats. They must be placed in the 

 world, and may show fight before he can regain his old 

 prerogatives as cock of the garden walk. 



A FAMILIAR moth of the day, a haunter of gardens and 



houses, is the magpie, a moth of dauntless spirit ; though 



in 



