340 THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST 



thing, which means that you are occupied with 

 seeing mental images and not the sky. An acre 

 or so of green linoleum or drugget, drawn evenly 

 and smoothly over the ground surrounding a large 

 house, would probably have as good an effect as a 

 perfectly smooth grass lawn. But into this question 

 I am not going any further. I write about lawns 

 because there are such things, and I have to see 

 them and sometimes live in sight of one. I have 

 had one before my eyes for hours this very day 

 while staying at a friend's house in the country. 

 A week ago I went up to London for a couple of 

 days, and on my return my hostess informed me 

 that I had no sooner left than the gardener pre- 

 sented himself before her to ask her if now that her 

 visitor had gone away for a day or two she would 

 allow him to sweep the lawn and make it tidy. 



It was a good-sized lawn, with a group of well- 

 grown birches on the west side, and one day in 

 early November the south-west wind blew and 

 carried thousands of small yellow heart-shaped 

 leaves over the green expanse, making it beautiful 

 to look at. By and by the gardener came with his 

 abhorred brushwood-broom and swept that lovely 

 novel appearance away, to my great disgust. Then 

 the blessed wind blew again and roared all night, 

 swaying the trees and tossing out fresh clouds on 

 clouds of the brilliant little leaves all over the 

 monotonous sheet of green, and lo ! in the morning 

 it was beautiful once more. And I stood and 

 admired it, and it was like walking on a velvet 



