22 FRESH WOODS. 



how I spent last Friday, a day as like that 

 other day for steadiness of downpour as 

 could be. 



Playing at chess with a young lady for two 

 hours helped me along agreeably enough till 

 lunch-time ; then, sheltered by my mackin- 

 tosh, I went out to the farmyard to look at 

 the animals and the bedraggled poultry, and 

 to watch three swallows feeding their lazy 

 young ones. They could fly just as well as 

 the old birds ; but they preferred to sit on a 

 rail in a row for ten minutes at a time, now 

 and then fluttering their wings to shake the 

 rain off, whilst the old birds busied them- 

 selves in the pelting rain by flitting round 

 for flies ; these they would drop while still in 

 motion into the greedy maws of the idle 

 young birds twittering and fluttering their 

 expectant wings on the rail. 



Then I took an axe with the intention of 

 performing some Gladstonian feats in the 

 woodhouse ; of that operation I soon tired. 

 As a last resource and a happy thought, I 

 found an old scythe, and, in spite of rain, I 

 sallied forth into the orchard to mow thistles, 

 of which there was a too plentiful crop. 

 Now at last have I found my true vocation. 

 I astonished myself at the neatness with 

 which I could swing the scythe and "lay 



