192 NATURES STORY OF THE YEAR 



slowly, but permanently. Early in the year its 

 clump of small round leaflets begins to grow, 

 forming on many a bank, or at the brink of a 

 quarry, a fresh green border to an overhanging 

 edge. Here, year by year, the roots obtain a 

 firmer grasp of the soil, which they afterwards 

 support against the stress of weather and the 

 ceaseless claim of gravity. The hollow beneath 

 becomes a highway for little feet. The mice love 

 such galleries, along which they can travel unseen 

 from above. In summer the lizard may pass that 

 way, perhaps delaying for a half-hour to bask at 

 the edge of the track, or darting on some insect 

 that would use the same devious road. In 

 autumn the reptile may use the protection of the 

 marjoram for his winter dormitory, which he will 

 excavate laboriously, using only one forefoot at a 

 time to scrape away the mould. The rattling 

 scamper of mice, the wriggling gait of the lizard, 

 and even the hasty rush of night-beetles, dislodge 

 from time to time a few grains of sand, a few 

 fragments of stone, and roll them down the slope ; 

 thus deepening the shade of the track, and render- 

 ing it more secure. The early spring butterflies 



