a man must reserve to himself the right to lie under his own trees; and besides I wanted to share the retreat with them in a friendly way, and not to drive them out. I suppose they found no other place suit them so well, for they came back cautiously three or four times, flitting from tree to tree, but finding a strange biped still in possession, to my disappointment, they always flew away again. The bees being bolder, or less observant, kept on buzzing round my head; and I had occupation enough in watching their motions, and in observing the changes on the grass, as the leaves were gently moved by some faint breeze. Now and then there would also come past the eye a delicate seed of dandelion, floating along like a fairy parachute.

When the sun got lower, I went round to the pond. There was now a little breeze—at least in this place -and the beech, under which I was sitting, seemed to make an effort, each now and then, to bring the tip of its longest bough into contact with the water. The pigeons, attracted by the coolness, were sweeping, in a very unusual manner, backward and forward over the pond. They got as near as they could, but were afraid to touch the water. At length one of them, after many attempts and much dexterous flying, managed to give his legs a bath, drawing them

through the water as he darted along. He was evidently proud of the feat, and perhaps none the less because the other birds, though they often tried, were unable to accomplish the same thing.

Generally

During this hot weather the ducks seemed to have a fine time of it. They were on the pond all day: and, I should think, for most of the night. they were occupied in swimming quietly round the shady edge, and in catching certain flies which are to be found in the interstices of an old brick embankment but occasionally they varied the monotony of this proceeding by turning up their tails and bobbing under the water in that ungraceful and laughable fashion which is one of their peculiarities.

We have had much amusement lately in watching a young brood of ducklings which have been hatched by an old and very large Dorking hen. Of course the young ones got on the pond, and the hen was in a dilemma. She could not join them, and she could neither coax nor frighten them off again; and so, while they went skimming about like little balls of down, she was reduced to following them round the edge, making her way through the bushes and over the stones as well as she could. Once I saw her, in a fit of desperation, dash on to the water after them, neck or nothing. I ran for a plank to rescue her;

but before I could get back she had managed, half swimming half flying, to regain the bank, although in a sadly wet and draggled condition. When six o'clock in the evening came, nature and habit were generally too much for her. After watching sedulously all the day, she would then turn sorrowfully away, and make for her perch in the hen-house, leaving the young prodigals to continue their vagaries alone, and wondering, no doubt, why she should have been cursed with such an incomprehensible and erratic brood. These young ducks were evidently of a sportive turn, and seemed to have a sense of humour, for one evening I found that the half-dozen of them had got on to two small strips of wood which were being driven by the wind. up and down the pond. The thing was inimitably grotesque. They jumped into the water and scrambled back again; they ran round the edges of their rafts; they erected their bodies so that their two little, budding wings looked like arms; they jostled each other about; and, altogether, behaved just as I have seen my boys do when bathing in the same pond.

But I must bring my record of this hot day to a close, and I may as well finish among the birds. A little after midnight, when the half moon was rising, I could see the outline of the pea-hen as she perched on the highest point of one of the highest gables

about the house. I was startled at first, for she was perfectly still, and looked like a gothic finial carved in stone. She is a wise bird, and had made her roost where any cooling wind which might happen to be abroad would be sure to reach her.

XXIX. THE OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN.

July 31.

IN a quaint little book called The Household of Sir Thomas More,' there is a passage on flowers and gardens which I must venture to quote in full. I do this because, in the first place, it happens to hint at the kind of garden which I myself most affect; and second, because it sets forth so well that old feeling with regard to flowers-fond, credulous, superstitious perhaps-which, although in these modern days we cannot pretend to entertain it ourselves, we are most of us pleased to hear of in our ancestors. The truth is I have been seeking opportunity to make this quotation, and I imagine the reader will thank me for making it :

Landing at Fulham, we had a brave Ramble thro' the Meadows. Erasmus, noting the poor Children a-gathering the Dandelion and Milk-thistle for the Herb-market, was avised to speak of forayn

L

Herbes and theire Uses, bothe for Food and Medícine.

"For me," says Father, " there is manie a Plant I entertayn in my Garden and Paddock which the Fastidious woulde cast forthe. I like to teache my Children the Uses of common Things-to know, for Instance, the Uses of the Flowers and Weeds that

grow in our Fields and Hedges. Manie a poor Knave's Pottage woulde be improved, if he were skilled in the Properties of the Burdock and Purple Orchis, Lady's-smock, Brook-lime, and Old Man's Pepper. The Roots of Wild Succory and Water Arrow-head mighte agreeablie change his Lenten Diet; and Glasswort afford him a Pickle for his Mouthfulle of Salt-meat. Then, there are Cresses and Wood-sorrel to his Breakfast, and Salep for his hot evening Mess. For his Medicine, there is Herbtwopence, that will cure a hundred Ills; Camomile, to lull a raging Tooth; and the Juice of Buttercup to cleare his Head by sneezing. Vervain cureth Ague; and Crowfoot affords the leaste painfulle of Blisters. St. Anthony Turnip is an Emetic; Goosegrass sweetens the blood; Wood-ruffe is good for the Liver; and Bindweed hath nigh as much Virtue as the forayn Scammony. Pimpernel promoteth Laughter; and Poppy, Sleep; Thyme giveth pleasant