230 FROM SPRING TO FALL. 



from some mice, then you hear a scramble ; after 

 that short sharp bounds, and a short eager cry. 

 It is the weasel in full pursuit of Oberon's long- 

 tailed cattle, the wood -mice. They will climb up 

 the stem and out on the branches to get out of the, 

 way of their determined little enemy; but it will 

 not be much use, for the weasel and the stoat are 

 as much at home in the trees as cats are. 



The hooting has ceased, and from the larches two 

 birds sail out over the open space. It will be a bad 

 job for young rabbit, mouse, or frog if that pair 

 get sight of it, for one or other will be sure to have 

 it. In this way one creature keeps within due limits 

 the inordinate increase of another. If I had my 

 wish, the beautiful arid most useful birds should 

 not be killed at all, formed as they are to act the 

 part of rural police when the night falls. 



Midsummer eve finds us by the side of a large 

 mere or lake, — either name would be applicable to 

 it. The evening is a glorious one; the sun has 

 gone down, leaving an after-glow of the richest 

 saffron and purple. From the water's edge to the 

 chapel-crowned hill, dedicated in past times to a 

 patron saint, all is in the richest grey shadow— 



