50 FIELD AND HEDGEROW 
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THE COUNTRY SUNDAY. 
RosEs bloomed on every bush, and some of the great 
hawthorns up which the briars had climbed seemed all 
flowers. The white and pink-white petals of the June 
roses adhered all over them, almost as if they had been 
artificially gummed or papered on so as to hide the 
leaves. Such a profusion of wild-rose bloom is rarely 
secn. On the Sunday morning, as on a week-day morn- 
ing, they were entirely unnoticed, and might be said in 
their turn to take no heed of the sanctified character of 
the day. With a rush like a sudden thought the white- 
barred eave-swallows came down the arid road and rose 
again into the air as easily as a man dives into the water. 
Dark specks beneath the white summer clouds, the 
swifts, the black albatross of our skies, moved on their 
unwearied wings. Like the albatross that floats over | 
the ocean and sleeps on the wing, the swift’s scimitar- 
like pinions are careless of repose. Once now and then 
they came down to earth, not, as might be supposed, to 
the mansion or the church tower, but to the low tiled 
roof of an ancient cottage which they fancied for their 
home. Kings sometimes affect to mix with their sub- 
jects; these birds that aspire to the extreme height of 
the air frequently nest in the roof of a despised tenement, 
inhabited by an old woman who never sees them. The 
corn was green and tall, the hops looked well, the fox- 
