236 THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FARM. 



It is curious that a guinea-hen belonging to the adjoin- 

 ing farm has gone otf into the woods, whether mated 

 with a pheasant or not we cannot tell. For several 

 evenings she returned later and later to her roost, as if 

 unable to make up her mind under temptation. One 

 evening she never came back at all, and ever since she 

 has kept to the plantation. One could understand it 

 if she had been reared where they are in the habit of 

 turning this bird out amongst the pheasants ; but she 

 was hatched from stock that has led a steady farm-yard 

 life for years, It must be a wild instinct cropping up 

 accidentally in her mind. 



The winter river-floods having made gi-eat inroads 

 into one part of the bank, we are raising stone close to 

 the river-bed, a few hundred yards away, to protect 

 the wearing part. It proves of a harder nature than 

 we anticipated. Where the layers are excavated we 

 make a series of runs and retreats for the quick-eyed 

 trout, so as to multiply our angling stations. Over the 

 packed stone I propose to scatter moiild, and sow 

 therein the runninor " Ao^rostis stolonifera," of which I 

 have had a sack down from a seedsman : a consign- 

 ment, by the way, which gave my young bailifiP a 

 strong fright. He was busy overhauling the various 

 packages when he came to this, and was struck by the 

 appearance of the fine diminutive seed. Plunging his 

 arm clothed with woollen in, he drew it out a brown 

 mass, as if a swarm of small flies were clinging by it. 



" Do you know what seed that is ? " 



" No, sir ; it's a funny sort." 



" Well, it's couch." 



'' Couch ! " 



And he dropped the sack in horror. 



