A SUMMER AT HOME. 193 



"bloom" might suggest berries; and only hope was 

 left that the cunning of the cook might find some pass- 

 able substitute. 



Wearied with long tramping, some climbing, and a 

 deal of flower-plucking, as the day closed we were again 

 at home. 



Surely, it was sad! The time -honored custom of 

 strawberries on the first of June to be omitted, and a 

 guest in the house at that. The hour arrived ; the tin- 

 kle of the tea-bell was the laugh of imps that mocked 

 me ; but I took my place with a firm step and serene 

 countenance. Was I, after all, responsible for the three 

 frosts? What! Strawberries? Yes ; there in all their 

 blushing beauty they lie, heaped in a capacious dish. 

 Kipe, ruddy berries, that will need carving, every one of 

 them. O ye of little faith ! What wonders, indeed, 

 had three days of sunshine wrought; and it had been 

 five since I had seen them, small, white, and unproniis- 



I straightway grew enthusiastic, if not eloquent ; and 

 quiet satisfaction beamed from the countenance of my 

 friend. 



The first week of June is the climax of song-bird life. 

 Earlier than this, we may always look for some new 

 songster to join the company ; later, one by one, the 

 birds drop out from the ranks ; so that what later music 

 is heard is usually that of single birds. In the first 

 week of June we have grand concerts — later, solos and 

 duets. 



In a cluster of oaks on the south hillside the birds 



9 



