1 84 IN THE GREEN LEAF 



but necessity ; some matters must be attended 

 to, let the weather be what it may. Weather 

 not fit for a dog to be out in it is, I am told 

 as I start on my journey, eleven miles. I must 

 go through it all. Not a rook out, and it takes 

 something to keep these birds at home ; not a 

 sound is to be heard but the splash and drip of 

 the rain ; for the time the land is drowned 

 and silent. 



The rain ceases, the waters lower, and the 

 furrows in the fields are dry, but the fields 

 are no longer tenantless. Where have the 

 birds come from all at once ? Flocks of small 

 birds there are, and in the centre of the 

 stubbles are hosts of wood-pigeons. As to 

 the rooks, they have been in the grazing 

 meadows, and they rest for a time in the 

 trees, too full of drowned-out worms to care 

 to fly. 



Acorns will come in presently, for the 

 pigeons and for the rooks also ; but all the 

 time that scattered grains of oats, barley, and 

 wheat can be got at, after rain, nicely mois- 

 tened to a sprouting point, the pigeons will 

 hunt for them. Field and hedge gleaners 

 leave little behind them when they have done. 



Wild creatures are not the only ones that 



