NATURE NOTES 
1 66 
wide open, assuring me that the fine weather was going to last. 
A faint breeze fanned the whole scene, not strong enough to lift 
a ball of thistle-down, while the large white convolvulus drooped 
languidly, as it nearly covered the low hedge. Birds and 
animals of all kinds seemed to have left their homes for a time 
to claim their share of the corn ! Wood-pigeons cooed in the 
trees and finches of all kinds chirped from the hedges. Rats 
and mice had evidently come out for the day and enjoyed them- 
selves in the grain. 
A graceful little harvest-mouse climbed up to its beautifully 
constructed nest in the corn, a butterfly flitted here and there, 
and as I watched it spread its beautiful wings, now lighting on 
a piece of yellow charlock, then on a wild pansy. The tree 
pipits sang in the branches and descended from time to time on 
the wheat. Yonder, the magpies fluttered over the barley, which 
had taken quite a different shade of yellow to the wheat. 
At the further end of the field stood a huge waggon drawn 
by three fine dark brown cart-horses, their glossy coats showing 
up very well among the golden corn, while their manes and 
tails were tied up with the straw. The ceaseless stroke of the 
reaper’s hook fell on the ranks of corn, and they heeded not the 
passing train as it went on its way to the great city. Men, 
women, girls and boys were nearly hidden by the wheat. One 
girl had bound round her sheaf a girdle of twisted stalks, in 
which mingled the green vine of the convolvulus and the pink- 
streaked bells, which, alas, must soon fade. 
How quickly summer comes upon us : it is difficult to believe 
it will soon pass away with all its beauties. Flowers we gaze 
on now will soon be hidden from our view, and the birds’ songs 
will be hushed for winter’s solemn season. Only for a time, 
however, we have to wait, for spring will come with fresh 
hopes, and the flowers, especially the violet, will look up from 
their green leaves and teach us a lesson of faith. 
I passed from the harvest, across a field of stubble. The 
honeysuckle was in flower at the tops of the hedges, and below 
the flower were berries, the fruit of the former blossom. Yellow 
weed, or ragwort, covered some of the fields almost as thickly 
as buttercups, but they are not nearly such a rich colour. Little 
St. John’s wort remains open, but the seeds are forming fast : 
haws are very plentiful this year, the branches are quite laden 
with the fruit ; and there are also a great many hips. The birds 
seem to prefer the hips to the haws, for the former always 
disappear much faster. Blackberries are plentiful, too, but not 
quite ripe yet : altogether it is a good berry year. 
From the stubble-field I passed into a green, shady wood. 
Here I resolved to eat my lunch under an old oak tree. A 
beautiful squirrel rushed across my path and scampered up a 
nut tree. He was evidently laying in his store for the winter: 
he seized a nut in his mouth, then sprang gracefully to an 
adjoining birch tree and disappeared from my sight. I went 
