JUNE. 



" Now comes the rosy June, and blue-eyed hours, 

 With songs of birds, and stir of leaves and wings, 

 And run of rills, and bubble of bright springs, 

 And hourly burst of buds to flowers, 

 With buzz of happy Bees in Violet bowers." 



1st. Dull, cold, raining, blustering N. and N.E. winds, cheerless. 

 That is how June, 1900, has been ushered in. What an entry, to be 

 sure! Goodness only knows when the Summer is going to start. I 

 hear we are very forward down South to what they are in Scotland. 

 A friend who travelled down to-day says that the hedgerows are not 

 yet green in the North. He was so pleased to see the green Spring 

 flush in England as he crossed the border. Skylark singing at night 

 in the teeth of a bitter gale. 



2nd. Hard rain during last night. Morning opened dull and 

 threatening, but weather looks like clearing up for the Whitsuntide 

 holidays. The Skylark keeps my spirits up; he is in incessant song 

 from the time the first rays of the sun flash across the dew-spattered 

 meadows until between 8 and 9 p.m. There were several Starlings 

 in the garden this morning chattering away. It is the first time 

 I have seen them since the hard weather. Can it be that these 

 identical birds were some of those which I befriended in the hour of 

 need? They surely did not recognise the surroundings. When last 

 they came, my garden was robed in white, and only the bare stems 

 of the trees lent colour to the scene. Now, however, what a change! 

 Various-hued Pansies are mingling amongst sweet-smelling Pinks; 

 the gorgeous flowers of the Iris are shown off by the sword-shaped 

 leaves- These latter cut as sharp and deep as a keen-edged sword; 

 but, being a delicious green all the year round, are highly prized. 

 When last the nervous Starlings visited me, no fine rows of Marrowfats 

 and Runner Beans, no healthy rows of Potatoes, nor well-set Currants 



