HEAT AT SELBORNE 183 



July, when the business of breeding is over or far 

 advanced and all the best songsters are dropping into 

 silence, and when the foliage is deepening to a uniform 

 monotonous dark green, is, next to August, the least 

 interesting month of the year. But at Selborne I 

 was singularly fortunate, although the season was 

 excessively dry and hot. The heat was indeed great 

 all over the country, but I doubt if there exists a 

 warmer village than Selborne, unless it be one in 

 some, to me unknown, coombe in Cornwall or Devon. 

 Thus on July 19th, when the temperature rose to 

 ninety degrees in the shade in the City of London, 

 we had it as high as ninety-four degrees in Selborne. 

 The village lies in a kind of trough at the foot of 

 a wall-like hill. If it were not for the moisture and 

 the greenery that surrounds and almost covers it, 

 hanging, as it were, like a cloud above it, the heat 

 would doubtless have been even greater. 



These conditions, in whatever way they may affect 

 the human inhabitants, appear to be exceedingly 

 favourable to the house crickets. It was impossible 

 for any. one to walk hi the village of an evening 

 without noticing the noise they made. The cottages 

 on both sides of the street seemed to be alive with 

 them, so that, walking, one was assailed by their 

 shrilling in both ears. Hearing them so much sent 

 me in search of then: wild cousin of the fields and 

 of the mole cricket, but no sound of them could I 

 hear. It was too late for them to sing. No doubt 



