IN SUMMER HEAT. 69 



and there are the young rooks hopping round their 

 parents, with open mouths and quivering wings, in 

 a state of eager expectancy. There is nothing to 

 be heard but tremulous war-are-are-wark-war-ke 

 are-ar, wark-e-e. As we are in the habit of sleeping 

 with our windows open, their music wakes us up 

 very early. Sometimes I get up in the grey of the 

 morning to look at their amusing antics ; but they 

 are not good songsters. 



Rain has fallen — genial refreshing showers — all 

 in its own good time, as the old lady told Master 

 Wiggins it would. They are cutting the corn, and 

 the corn looks well. They sowed, and now they 

 reap, as they have ever done. 



The trees are changing ; the leaves will fall early, 

 we think, this season. From certain movements 

 I have noted in some birds — the migratory portion 

 of them — it will not be long before they depart and 

 others arrive. 



Look where you will, the brown colour has gone, 

 for we have had the blessed rain. Go where you 

 will, in all directions and in all places the grass 

 grows green. 



