the somewhat bulbous root of the broom
rape, so that although they stand apart and appear separate plants, they
are connected under the surface. The stalk of the broom rape is clammy
to touch, and is an unwholesome greenish yellow, a dull undecided
colour; if cut, it is nearly the same texture throughout. There are
numerous dull purplish flowers at the top, but it has no leaves. It is
not a pleasant-looking plant--a strange and unusual growth.

One particular field was completely covered with it, and scarcely a
clover field in the neighbourhood was perfectly free. But though drawing
the sap from the clover plants the latter grew so vigorously that little
damage was apparent. After a while the broom rape disappeared, but the
clover shot up and afforded good forage. So late as the beginning of
October a few poppies flowered in it, their bright scarlet contrasting
vividly with the green around, and the foliage above fast turning brown.

The flight of the jay much resembles that of the magpie, the same
jaunty, uncertain style, so that at a distance from the flight alone it
would be difficult to distinguish them, though in fact the magpie's
longer tail and white and black colours always mark him. One morning in
July, standing for a moment in the shade beside a birch copse which
borders the same road, a jay flew up into the tree immediately overhead,
so near that the peculiar shape of the head and bill and all the plumage
was visible. He looked down twice, and then flew. Another morning there
was a jay on the ground, searching about, not five yards from the road,
nor twenty from a row of houses. It was at the corner of a copse which
adjoins them. If not so constantly shot at the jay would be anything but
wild.

Notwithstanding all these magpies and jays, the partridges are numerous
this year in the fields bordering the highway, and which are not watched
by keepers. Thinking of the partridges makes me notice the anthills.
There were comparatively few this season, but on the 4th of August,
which was a sunny day, I saw the inhabitants of a hill beside the road
bringing out the eggs into the sunshine. They could not do it fast
enough; some ran out with eggs, and placed them on the top of the little
mound, and others seized eggs that had been exposed sufficiently and
hurried with them into the interior.

Woody nightshade grows in quantities along this road and, apparently,
all about the outskirts of the town. There is not a hed