The birds are
silent save the jackdaws and the robin, who still sings his
recollections of the summer, or his anticipations of the spring, or
perhaps his pleasure in the late autumn. The finches are in flocks, and
whirl round in the air with graceful, shell-like convolutions as they
descend, part separating, for no reason apparently, and forming a second
flock which goes away over the copse. There is hardly any farm-work
going on, excepting in the ditches, which are being cleaned in readiness
for the overflow when the thirsty ground shall have sucked its fill.
Under a bank by the roadside a couple of men employed in carting stone
for road-mending are sitting on a sack eating their dinner. The roof of
the barn beyond them is brilliant with moss and lichens; it has not been
so vivid since last February. It is a delightful time. No demand is
made for ecstatic admiration; everything is at rest, nature has nothing
to do but to sleep and wait.
THE BREAK-UP OF A GREAT DROUGHT
For three months there had been hardly a drop of rain.
Pages:
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34