NATUItE NEAR LONDON. 



FLOCKS OF BIRDS. 



A CERTAIN road leading outwards from a suburb, 

 enters at once among fields. It soon passes a thick 

 hedge dividing a meadow from a cornfield, in which 

 hedge is a spot where some bluebeUs may be found in 

 spring. Wild flowers are best seen when in masses, 

 a few scattered along a bank much concealed by 

 grass and foliage are lost, except indeed, upon those 

 who love them for their own sake. 



This meadow in June, for instance, when the 

 butter-cups are high, is one broad expanse of 

 burnished gold. The most careless passer-by can 

 hardly fail to cast a glance over acres of rich yellow. 

 The furze, again, especially after a shower has re- 

 freshed its tint, must be seen by all. Where broom 

 grows thickly, lifting its colour well into view, or 

 where the bird's-foot lotus in full summer overruns 

 the thin grass of some upland pasture, the eye cannot 

 choose but acknowledge it. So, too, with eharlock, 

 and with hill sides purple with heath, or where the 

 woodlands are azure with bluebells for a hundred 

 yards together. Learning from this, those who would 

 transplant wild flowers to their garden should arrange 



