Fox's Earth to Mountain Tarn 



from the west. The sky is oftener grey, clouding 

 over of an afternoon. The breeze has a trick of 

 rising suddenly, passing through the trees with 

 a certain metallic rattle, suggestive of the fall. 

 The hills are misty-outlined and purple-flanked, 

 even at midday. The landscape sobers into 

 brown shades. The setting sun has crept round 

 to the southern side of yonder peak. The 

 northern twilight is less lingering, and deep- 

 ens into something more nearly approaching 

 dark. 



Young willow -warblers come in about the 

 gardens to feed on the aphides, and utter at 

 intervals their plaintive lay, not yet fully formed. 

 Castanet sounds are heard, and, ere the second 

 week has passed, young robins break into their 

 autumn song and trill delightfully. The twitter- 

 ing swallows feed the young on the eaves ; then 

 young and old float in the air to a sweet chorus. 

 Anon is a gathering on the telegraph wires, and 

 on the morrow all are gone. Far aloft the swifts 

 scream. The young are on the wing, strengthen- 

 ing for the long flight, to be entered on at mid- 

 month. 



A yellow-hammer sings from the fence, but for 

 the most part the singing has passed into some- 

 thing else. A charming family of whitethroats 

 are talking to one another ever so delightfully in 

 the bramble brake. How soft the tones even of 

 a whitethroat can be when in its gentler moods, 



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