132 COUNTRY RAMBLES. 



hang upon the pliant branches. Cowper and Wordsworth both noticed 

 the beauty of this familiar wild flower. The former says: 



"The Broom, 

 Yellow arid bright as bullion unalloyed." 



And Wordsworth: 



"The Broom, 



Full-flowered, and visible on every step, 

 Along the copses runs in veins of gold." 



30th. Dull, and somewhat cold. Fitful gleams of sunshine. 

 Whilst wielding the willow this evening the following songsters were 

 to be heard on every side: Willow Wren, Chaffinch, Blackcap (this 

 last-named Warbler almost surpassing himself). Nightingale, Blackbird, 

 Song Thrush, Common Wren, and Robin. The Great and Coal 

 Titmice were also very noisy, as well as the Starling and the Green 

 Woodpecker. 



The hedgerows are one mass of white now with the snow-white 

 blossoms of the Hawthorn, and in a few days time this flower will 

 be out in its fulness. It is certainly some days late this season. 



31st. Dull, and cold, with North winds. We have started fires 

 again!! Skylark still singing. My notes with regard to this minstrel 

 of liberty and love are very frequent, for the reason that no matter 

 when I am in, or near, my house I hear half-a-dozen of these birds 

 pouring out their delicious melodies. They are very plentiful indeed 

 in this district, but, alas for the Nature lover, the town is rapidly 

 extending its area, and many an old green lane of our boyhood has 

 been effaced beyond recognition. The expulsion of the Larks as 

 neighbours of mine is, I am afraid, near at hand. A year or two will 

 probably see them driven away from their present haunts, for by that 

 time bricks and mortar will have replaced the cornfields, the meadow 

 lands, and the other rural surroundings, but sufficient for the day is 

 the evil thereof. 



