98 IN THE GREEN LEAF 



greatly. But our cricket-bird reels away con- 

 tentedly enough. 



Just to refresh our memory, we cautiously 

 pelt him out of his sanctuary, and then for a 

 few moments we can see a bird about the size 

 of the furze- wren, with a fan-shaped tail, green- 

 ish-brown with dark streaks on the upper part 

 of it, of a lighter tint on the breast and under 

 side, fussily darting here and there, as if it did 

 not know where to pick out the thickest bit of 

 tangled cover, within a few yards of it ; for it 

 never moves far away, pelt or thresh it out as 

 you will. 



How many times, in the course of long years, 

 have I looked over the gate leading from one 

 lonely farm into a main road near my present 

 home ! 



There was the house, and the rambling old 

 stackyard beyond, as quiet as a place could 

 well be, when all work was over for the day. 

 If it was dry, you might see one or two hares 

 cross the road, or a partridge run towards the 

 hedge, in passing into the fields beyond, but 

 this would be about all, for it was what is called 

 a wet lane. Wide ditches ran on either side of 

 the green stripes that bordered the cart- way, 

 and these were completely covered in by all 



