MEADOW THOUGHTS. 73 



trary to sense, if you do but consider a moment the 

 enormous profusion the earth throws at our feet. In 

 the slow process of time, as the human heart grows 

 larger, such provision, I sincerely trust, will be made 

 that no one need ever feel anxiety about mere subsist- 

 ence. Then, too, let there be some imitation of this 

 open-handed generosity and divine waste. Let the 

 generations to come feast free of care, like my finches 

 on the seeds of the mowing-grass, from which no voice 

 drives them. If I could but give away as freely as the 

 earth does ! 



The white-backed eave-swallow has returned many, 

 many times from the shallow drinking-place by the 

 brook to his half-built nest. Sometimes the pair of 

 them cling to the mortar they have fixed under the 

 eave, and twitter to each other about the progress of 

 the work. They dive downwards with such velocity 

 when they quit hold that it seems as if they must strike 

 the ground, but they shoot up again, over the wall 

 and the lime trees. A thrush has been to the arbour 

 yonder twenty times ; it is made of crossed laths, and 

 overgrown with " tea-plant," and the nest is inside the 

 lath work. A sparrow has visited the rose tree by the 

 wall — the buds are covered with aphides. A brown 

 tree-creeper has been to the limes, then to the cherries, 

 and even to a stout lilac stem. No matter how small 

 the tree, he tries all that are in his way. The bright 

 colours of a bullfinch were visible a moment just now, 

 as he passed across the shadows farther down the 

 garden under the damson trees and into the bushes. 

 The grasshopper has gone past and along the garden- 

 path, his voice is not heard now ; but there is another 



