repetition of the yellow clover is not to be written; acre upon acre, and
not one spot of green, as if all the green had been planed away, leaving
only the flowers to which the bees come by the thousand from far and
near. But one white campion stands in the midst of the lake of yellow.
The field is scented as though a hundred hives of honey had been emptied
on it. Along the mound by it the bluebells are seeding, the hedge has
been cut and the ground is strewn with twigs. Among those seeding
bluebells and dry twigs and mosses I think a titlark has his nest, as he
stays all day there and in the oak over. The pale clear yellow of
charlock, sharp and clear, promises the finches bushels of seed for their
young. Under the scarlet of the poppies the larks run, and then for
change of colour soar into the blue. Creamy honeysuckle on the hedge
around the cornfield, buds of wild rose everywhere, but no sweet petal
yet. Yonder, where the wheat can climb no higher up the slope, are the
purple heath-bells, thyme and flitting stone-chats.

The lone barn shut off by acres of barley is noisy with sparrows. It is
their city, and there is a nest in every crevice, almost under every
tile. Sometimes the partridges run between the ricks, and when the bats
come out of the roof, leverets play in the waggon-track. At even a fern-
owl beats by, passing close to the eaves whence the moths issue. On the
narrow waggon-track which descends along a coombe and is worn in chalk,
the heat pours down by day as if an invisible lens in the atmosphere
focussed the sun's rays. Strong woody knapweed endures it, so does
toadflax and pale blue scabious, and wild mignonette. The very sun of
Spain burns and burns and ripens the wheat on the edge of the coombe, and
will only let the spring moisten a yard or two around it; but there a few
rushes have sprung, and in the water itself brooklime with blue flowers
grows so thickly that nothing but a bird could find space to drink. So
down again from this sun of Spain to woody coverts where the wild hops
are blocking every avenue, and green-flowered bryony would fain climb to
the trees; where grey-flecked ivy winds spirally about the red rugged
bark of pines, where burdocks fight for the footpath, and teazle-heads
look over the low hedges. Brake-fern rises five feet high; in some way
woodpeckers are associated with brake, and there seem more of them where
it flourishes. If you count the depth and strength