WHERE GRASS IS GREEN. 149 



tween a very early breakfast and lesson-time. The 

 girl sits and holds a wide -mouthed bottle ready 

 for "the robins" for by this name the young- 

 sters call the sticklebacks which her companion 

 is catching by means of a worm tied round its 

 middle with a thread. The youngsters tell me 

 they are going to take the little fish to "teacher," 

 who has got a big glass box with water in it an' 

 green weeds an' robins. They look grand in it 

 too, she adds. Quite a subject for one of Birket 

 Foster's pictures of country children these are. 



I have seen a great many fish in my time, but 

 in my opinion there is no other so pretty as is 

 our little male stickleback in his nesting season. 

 He is lit up with crimson, golden green, and 

 silver; the small fellow seems literally afire. And 

 indeed his looks do not belie him, for a more 

 fiery and pugnacious little fish never moved in 

 water than the stickleback at this season. 



It is near school-time, and as the children get 

 up to go with their prize, I pick a large cool leaf 

 from a bunch of marsh-marigolds and place it on 

 the top of their bottle, and then pass over the 

 meadow. No spade has ever touched this soil, 



