128 Ripe Grass. 



more vigorously than the tenant who knows that he 

 is hable to receive a notice to quit. And farms, for 

 one reason or another, change tenants much more 

 frequentl}' now than they used to do. Here at Wick 

 the owner feels that every apple tree he grafts, ever}' 

 flower he plants, returns not onl^' a mone}' value, 

 but a joy not to be measured by money. So the bees 

 are carefully watched and tended, as the blue tom- 

 tits find to their cost if they become too venture- 

 some. 



These bold little bandits will sometimes make a 

 dash for the hive, alighting on the miniature platform 

 before the entrance, and playing havoc with the 

 busy inmates. If alarmed they take refuge in the 

 apple trees, as if conscious that the owner will not 

 shoot them there, since every pellet may destroy 

 potential fruit b}' cutting and breaking those tender 

 twigs on which it would present!}' grow. It is a 

 pleasant sight in autumn to see the room devoted to 

 the hone}' — great broad milk-tins full to the brim of 

 the translucent liquid, distilhng slowly from pure 

 white comb, from the top of whose cells the waxen 

 covering has been removed. 



All the summer through fresh beauties, indeed, 

 wait upon the owner's footsteps. In the spring the 

 mowing-grass rises thick, strong, and richly green, 

 or hidden by the cloth-of-gold thrown over it by the 

 buttercups. He knows when it is ready for the 

 scythe without reference to the almanac, because of 

 the brown tint which spreads over it from the ripen- 

 ing seeds, sometimes tinged with a dull red, when 

 the stems of the sorrel are plentiful. At first the 

 aftermath has a trace of yellow, as if it were fading ; 



