LOVE OF NATURAL HISTORY 275 



my charge the right way and getting them fit for 

 their engagements. I enjoy the sights and sounds 

 of rural nature, the signs of the seasons, and watch- 

 ing the gradual succession of these is to me a source 

 of continual pleasure. There are the cowslip, 

 harebell, wild hyacinth, wild thyme, and saxifrage, 

 with many another flower and fragrant herb to 

 gladden the sight and sense of smell when one 

 treads or canters across the Downs, and it seems to 

 me that, after they begin to come, there is a fresh 

 carpet of them every month of the year, from 

 springtime to harvest. This is a wonderful 

 country for birds. All the English song birds, 

 the warblers and whistlers and twitterers, are with 

 us in their turns. It seems to be a favourite resort 

 of many birds of passage, and there are birds that 

 appear to have made the Downs their home. 

 There is the grey plover, the first harbinger of 

 spring. The bird merely scratching a small hollow 

 in the moss or grass to form the nest, and the eggs 

 are much sought after yet very difficult to find, 

 although some of the old women who go in search 

 of them and offer them for sale appear to make 

 a good thing of it. The wheatear, with his short 

 and jerky flight, the swallow and the cuckoo are 

 not only with us in their appointed seasons, but I 

 fancy, although I have kept no record of their 

 coming, that we have them earlier on our Downs 

 than they have in other parts of the county. It is 

 curious to watch the swallows as they dart and 

 wheel round the horses' feet, apparently without 



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