132 MY LIFE AS A NATURALIST 



that there are not more Poppies than there are. Millions of the 

 small seeds must never come to maturity. If they did, we 

 should, during the Summer, live in Poppyland, surrounded 

 everywhere by these bright-liveried soldiers of the vegetable world. 



Doubtless several kinds of birds and Finches, in particular 

 feed upon the seeds of the plant in question, and thus help to 

 keep down the numbers of this farmer's pest, but there must be 

 other agencies at work of which we are not cognisant. 



I have certainly seen more Poppies in Hertfordshire and 

 Cambridgeshire than at Cromer, Overstrand, and elsewhere on 

 the Norfolk coast, immortalised by Clement Scott as Poppyland. 



Interesting experiments have been made with regard to the 

 vitality of seeds buried below the soil, and I have myself seen 

 fields cut up for building purposes which had not yielded a single 

 Poppy within living memory. Soon after the soil was moved, 

 however, a host of Scarlet Poppies sprang into being, and, before 

 the buildings were erected, the loose soil around was clothed 

 with a red robe fit for an Emperor. The fact is that many seeds 

 which are buried in the earth retain their vitality for several 

 years, and it only requires light, air, and moisture to set them 

 germinating, as the advent of thousands of Poppies in a grass 

 meadow is apt evidence. 



Unsettled weather appears to suit the Wild Mignonette, for, 

 at the time of writing, this pretty plant is a great feature of the 

 countryside, especially in chalky districts, where it flourishes 

 exceedingly. 



When in the Fens, I was rather surprised to find whole fields 

 almost covered with the soft, greenish-yellow racemes of this 

 plant. When thus seen a most pleasing effect is produced, and 

 in a county, such as Cambridge, which is so well supplied with 

 water, the wild plants attain a very considerable size. If the 

 Mignonette of our gardens, which, unlike the wild species, is 

 beautifully scented, could be grown so luxuriantly as the plants 

 which may now be seen on almost any country ramble in North 

 Herts, then, indeed, a splendid addition would be made to our 

 garden flowers. 



In the heyday of Summer, when the Roses are all a-bloom 

 in our gardens, and Nature is one continuous feast of delight, 

 then I hie away to a Bramble bush to find, as Elizabeth Barrett 

 Browning says, that 



"Earth's crammed with Heaven 

 And every common bush is afire with God." 



