76 COLIN CLOUT'S CALENDAR. 



XIV. 



THE CLOVER BLOOMS. 



I'l" is dry enough to-day to sit on the edge of the bank 

 here, overlooking the sea, and watch the stone-boats 

 loading great nodules of blue lias from the cliff to send 

 away for cement in the two big clumsy coasting-vessels 

 that ride awkwardly at anchor among the few small 

 trawlers alongside our tiny quay. This long mound- 

 shaped hillock on whose side I am seated bears among 

 the children the fanciful name of the Giant's Grave ; and, 

 indeed, at first sight you might easily take it for a huge 

 artificial barrow of the oldest prehistoric type. It is in 

 reality, however, a natural formation after all — an oblong 

 mass of loose rubbly chert tumbled from the cliff above 

 in winter weather, and long ago worn down by frost and 

 rain to a round, smooth, level contour. Among the 

 close-bitten turf on its shallow surface-soil, a little strag- 

 gling and creeping white clover seems to form the chief 

 element. I have known it well for years on this self- 

 same knoll ; for it has a w^onderful knack of clinging to 

 any spot where it has once established itself; which is 

 not by any means surprising when one comes to learn its 

 peculiar economy. It is a special form of clover adapted 

 to dry sandy or gravelly pastures, but above all to shal- 



