THE WONDERS OF THE SUMMER. 97 



lias not yet scorched the pasture-fields, and every 

 bush and tree is clothed in its summer robe of 

 darkest green. The spring-time blossoms have 

 faded ; scattered to the winds are the fleecy 

 branches of hawthorn ; the pink-and-white glory 

 of the crab, and the snow-white clusters of the 

 bird-cherry were ruthlessly strewn under foot long 

 ago. Nature produces lavishly, and just as 

 lavishly destroys. No living things escape the 

 doom of decay which is the penalty of their being. 

 They bud, and bloom, and shine in pristine 

 splendour for a season ; then they wither and fall, 

 and are gone. But the hedges just now are 

 spangled with wild roses, and the fragrant honey- 

 suckle twists, and twines, and hangs in tempting 

 clusters from the taller bushes, loading the air 

 around with perfume of rarest sweetness. Few 

 buttercups, like cloth of gold, glisten in the sun- 

 light now, and the daisies have vanished or are 

 hidden in the long grass ; but the tall " moon- 

 pennies," or "ox-eyes," gleam in the meadows 

 high above the herbage ; and the fragrant 

 meadowsweet and graceful foxgloves are scattered 

 along the hedgerows. Summer blooms replace 

 the sweet, fair flowers of spring ; the blue and 

 white carpets of hyacinths and anemones have 

 vanished ; but the pink clover and the vetches 

 set the fields aflame with colour and saturate the 

 air with scent. In amongst the clover the leverets 

 sport and play, and the rabbits towards evening 

 regain their accustomed activity, and venture 



