EOUND A LONDON COPBE. 165 



height; so that bryony vines trail over the bushes 

 and stay till the berries fall of their own ripeness ; so 

 that the brown leaves lie and are not swept away 

 unless the wind chooses ; so that all things follow 

 their own course and bent. The hedge opposite in 

 autumn, when reapers are busy with the sheaves, is 

 white with the large trumpet flowers of the great wild 

 convolvulus (or bindweed). The hedge there seems 

 made of convolvulus then ; nothing but convolvulus 

 and nowhere else does the flower flourish so strongly ; 

 the bines remain till the following spring. 



Without a path through it, without a border or 

 parterre, unvisited, and left alone, the orchard has 

 acquired an atmosphere of peace and stillness, such as 

 grows up in woods and far-away lonely places. It is 

 so commonplace and unpretentious that passers-by do 

 not notice it ; it is merely a corner of meadow dotted 

 with apple trees a place that needs frequent glances 

 and a dreamy mood to understand it as the birds 

 understand it. They are always there. In spring, 

 thrushes move along rustling the fallen leaves as they 

 search among the arum sheaths unrolling beside the 

 sheltering palings. There are nooks and corners 

 whence shy creatures can steal out from the shadow 

 and be happy. There is a loving streak of sunshine 

 somewhere among the tree trunks. 



Though the copse is so much frequented the migrant 

 birds (which have now for the most part gone) next 

 spring will not be seen nor heard there first. With 

 one exception, it is not the first place to find them. 

 The cuckoos which come to the copse do not call till 

 some time after others have been heard in the neigh- 



