256- COUNTRY RAMBLES. 



The blustering winds seem to foretell wintry weather, and that 

 the Summer has really passed and gone. It is hard to realise, but 

 it is so. 



The rarer Maple is shedding its rich, brown leaves upon the 

 pathway. The light green flower heads of the Ivy contrast pleasingly 

 with the dark shining leaves. Hops ripe, and how graceful they trail 

 along the hedgerows; they are not cultivated in this district. 



How pleasing to stand outside the village church and listen to 

 the singing. It is mostly amateur, but it is sweet and beautiful. We 

 prefer it to the highest-paid professionals in the land, and nothing 

 pleases us more than to listen to the villagers chanting their praises; 

 to the village schoolmaster playing the mellow organ, and to the 

 village choirboys singing an anthem of praise for the harvest home. 

 It is all very beautiful because everything around is so quiet and rural, 

 and the service so simple Perchance in the churchyard a sweet- 

 voiced Robin sings, and over the square church tower we observe a 

 soaring Lark. It is indeed a beautiful and inspiriting scene in which 

 to participate. The joys of English country life and pursuits know 

 no bounds. Hard by is the Rector's residence. What opportunities 

 he has for Natural History studies,^, but how few take advantage of 



them. 



i 



The brilliant red seeds of the Cuckoo Pint still conspicuous o& 

 the hedge banks; also the necklets of Bryony berries along the 

 hedgerows. 



Came across a field dotted all over with the dark violet of the 

 Devil's-bit Scabious, the white of the Yarrow, and the golden of the 

 Nipplewort and the Autumnal Hawkbit. The effect was very charming. 



Passing through the village, some of the rosy-cheeked children 

 were singing " Pass the hat for your credit's sake, and pay, pay, pay ! " 

 1 wondered when I heard their innocent little voices if they had ever 

 seen a real soldier, or could realise in the faintest degree the meaning 

 of the lines they uttered with such evident self-satisfaction. 



Found a Hedgehog's skin, which reminds me of Buckland's 

 anecdote of one he had in his garden being attacked by an Eagle and 

 killed, the bird also being 1 one of his pets. It seems almost impossible 

 for 'a Hedgehog to be tackled by a bird, for it is such a bristly, 

 awkward customer to deal with; but Buckland's word is too good f to 

 be doubted. 



