Hillside. 127 



grey patch hanging from the flower, a dead leaf, nothing 

 more. When the danger is past the wings are again 

 opened, and the butterfly is once more to be seen sunning 

 itself. The hum of the insects and the fragrance of the 

 flowers encourage drowsiness, but it will not do to lie here 

 all day. 



Starting down the hill again, we keep under the edge of 

 the wood, and presently come upon a small chalk pit that 

 claims our attention. There are others like it ; probably 

 they have been excavated to obtain materials for road- 

 making. These clearings are sometimes a perfect paradise 

 to the botanist ; this one, however, has no additional plants 

 beyond those which we have already noticed on the bank. 

 Its overhanging ledges are made of matted roots of bushes 

 and trees, and these ledges are favourite resorts of many 

 birds in the nesting season. It is almost too late for eggs 

 or young birds now, but deserted nests of the bullfinch, the 

 titmouse and chaffinch are soon found, and from a bush at 

 our feet we unearth a late yellow-hammer's nest, with young 

 ones in it. In the spring, when everything is in its first 

 blush of verdant beauty, there is here quite an orchestra 

 of music. Then to meet the fair goddess of spring 



" The swallow circling flies, 

 A clamorous cuckoo stoops to meet her hand " 



whilst 



The blackcap warbles and the turtle purrs, 

 The starling claps his tiny castanets." 



We still occasionally hear the clamour of the cuckoo 

 (although he is now getting ready to leave us), the warbling 

 of the blackcap and the purring of the dove ; but spring has 



