THE PAGEANT OF SUMMER. 



GREEN rushes, long and thick, standing up above the 

 edge of the ditch, told the hour of the year as distinctly 

 as the shadow on the dial the hour of the day. Green 

 and thick and sappy to the touch, they felt like sum- 

 mer, soft and elastic, as if full of life, mere rushes 

 though they were. On the fingers they left a green 

 scent ; rushes have a separate scent of green, so, too, 

 have ferns, very different to that of grass or leaves. 

 Rising from brown sheaths, the tall stems enlarged a 

 little in the middle, like classical columns, and heavy 

 with their sap and freshness, leaned against the haw- 

 thorn sprays. From the earth they had drawn its 

 moisture, and made the ditch dry ; some of the sweet- 

 ness of the air had entered into their fibres, and the 

 rushes the common rushes were full of beautiful 

 summer. The white pollen of early grasses growing 

 on the edge was dusted from them each time the haw- 

 thorn boughs were shaken by a thrush. These lower 

 sprays came down in among the grass, and leaves and 

 grass-blades touched. Smooth round stems of angelica, 

 big as a gun-barrel, hollow and strong, stood on the 



