ioo A YEAR IN A LANCASHIRE GARDEN. 



against Gardens," and " Ametas and Thestylis 

 making Hay-ropes ; " and again, in his fine poem, 

 on " Appleton House," he describes the " tawny 

 mowers " dividing the " grassy deeps," 



" With whistling scythe and elbow strong." 



One of our latest poets too, Mr. Allingham, has a 

 delicious little mower's song, with a quite perfect 

 refrain of 



" A scythe-sweep and a scythe-sweep, 

 We mow the grass together." 



And again, what does not the garden owe to the 

 voice of birds ; the deep cawing of the rook in its 

 "curious flight" around the elm-trees; the clear 

 note of the cuckoo from the limes that bound the 

 orchard ; and, best of all, the rich, full melody of 

 the thrush ! The nightingale's song may be sweeter 

 and stronger, but the nightingale only sings in 

 certain places (certainly not with us), and the 

 thrush is everywhere. The nightingale sings later 

 in the night, but the thrush will go on till nine, and 

 begin again at four, and surely that is all we need. 

 Can anything be truer, or better said, than these 

 lines cf Browning's about a thrush ? 



