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COUNTRY RAMBLES. 



and Plums, were on view. How the scene has changed! Yet, if 

 there was no Winter, we should not appreciate the budding Spring, 

 then, later, the perfect Summer; and, again, the Autumn, the 

 closing of another year of Nature's life. If the birds sang all the 

 year round we should not listen with such expectancy for the first 

 cry of " Cuckoo," for the first strains of the Nightingale, the delicate 

 warble of the Willow Wren, the voice of the amorous Turtle Dove, 



NEST AND EGGS OF NIGHTJAR. 

 (A closer view). 



the "crex, crex" of the ventriloquial Landrail, and so on. If the 

 flowers bloomed the year through we should not search with such 

 eager eyes for the first golden petals of the Lesser Celandine, the 

 yellow Primrose, the snugly-hid, sweet-smelling Violet, the shooting 

 Corn, or, to turn to another side of the picture, for the first sight of 



