Seeds and Sowers 261 



eye. Plumed seeds, like those of the thistle and 

 wild clematis, lend a delicate brightness to the sere 

 tones of autumn vegetation. Yet, in spite of these 

 conspicuous exceptions, few English seeds are 

 brightly coloured. Their interest lies less on the 

 surface than that of their parent flowers. The eye 

 ranges over the herbage of the brookside, where 

 the white heads of the meadow-sweet tossed together 

 in the windy July nights, and sees only a mass of 

 stained foliage and blackish sprays. The eclipse 

 of the white and yellow bedstraw blossoms is even 

 more complete ; they might well have vanished 

 in the wind, like the foam they resembled ; and 

 where beds of blue cranesbill lit up the grass, we 

 must search long in the rusty weeds before we can 

 find one birdlike beak. 



Yet in curious and secret ways these seeds are 

 full of motion and activity, and attract the keen 

 attention of eyes more vigilant than our own. 

 The wood-mice, or long-tailed field-mice, which in 

 spring and summer attack bulbs and flowers in 

 gardens, in autumn turn their attention to the seeds 

 of the copses and hedgerows. Little would be seen 

 of the work of these shy nocturnal creatures if it 

 were not for their habit of making heaps of seeds 

 and berries in old birds' nests. On the rough slope 

 under the wood, where the purple knapweed rose 

 among the thyme in August, and the trill of the 

 cirl buntings fell persistently from the neighbouring 

 elms, there is now no tinge of blossom, and the birds 

 with their summer cry are gone. But their nest in 

 the bed of brambles, from which the young birds 



