THE TURNING TIDE 207 



honey-colour that they give to the blossoming tree is less 

 vivid, though they shed a richer scent. The wafted 

 fragrance of the chestnut bloom is like the distant odour 

 of a bluebell copse, but the sweetness of the lime-flower is 

 individual. The blossoms are richly dewed with nectar, and 

 they are very attractive to bees, though often mysteriously 

 fatal. The deep hum of the bees in the garden limes sets 

 the seal on perfect July weather, like the peaceful conversa- 

 tion of the rooks in the elms on an April morning. The 

 flowering of the limes leads in the supreme season of beauty 

 in the garden, when the desire of distant wandering seems 

 to vanish with the departed spring, and the tallest and 

 gravest plants are in bloom. 



One sign of the increasing heat of later summer is the 

 peculiar twisting of the lime-leaves, which seem to avoid the 

 full heat of the sun. Instead of spreading a horizontal 

 surface, as most leaves do in our climate, they turn up their 

 edges to the sky, so that the pale under sides are visible, and 

 the tree becomes silvery and chequered. This is a very 

 frequent device of limes in July and August, especially in 

 hot summers ; and in the hotter and drier climate of North 

 America it is common among other trees. It is not 

 attractive from the human point of view, for although the 

 pale upturned surfaces of the lime-leaves have a cool gleam, 

 the edges turned to the sky let in the sunshine beneath the 

 tree, and rob its shelter of its coolness. The eye marks this 

 obvious deficiency in shade, and the garden wears a hotter 

 and more feverish look in the sun. Coolness is largely a 

 matter of suggestion, and great spreading leaves like the 

 sycamore's, or the broad canopy of cedar boughs, has as 

 much to do with the sense of ease in a July garden as the 

 actual reduction in the temperature. There seems no parti- 

 cular reason why the lime should adopt this evasive trick ; 



