2EE3KS?E38: TO BRIGHTON 



against the line of the sky, and over the dark arch 

 of the tunnel. This, it is true, is summer; but it 

 is the same in spring. Before a dandelion has 

 shown in the meadow, the banks of the railway are 

 yellow with coltsfoot. After a time the gorse 

 flowers everywhere along them ; but the golden 

 broom overtops all, perfect thickets of broom 

 glowing in the sunlight. 



Presently the copses are azure with bluebells, 

 among which the brake is thrusting itself up ; 

 others, again, are red with ragged robins, and the 

 fields adjacent fill the eye with the gaudy glare of 

 yellow charlock. The note of the cuckoo sounds 

 above the rushing of the train, and the larks may 

 be seen, if not heard, rising high over the wheat. 

 Some birds, indeed, find the bushes by the railway 

 the quietest place in which to build their nests. 



Butcher-birds or shrikes are frequently found on 

 the telegraph wires ; from that elevation they 

 pounce down on their prey, and return again to 

 the wire. There were two pairs of shrikes using 

 the telegraph wires for this purpose one spring 

 only a short distance beyond noisy Clapham Junc- 

 tion. Another pair came back several seasons to a 

 particular part of the wires, near a bridge, and I 

 have seen a hawk perched on the wire equally near 

 London. 



The haze hangs over the wide, dark plain, 

 245 



