ge without it,
and it creeps over the mounds of earth at the sides of the highways.
Some fumitory appeared this summer in a field of barley; till then I had
not observed any for some time in that district. This plant, once so
common, but now nearly eradicated by culture, has a soft pleasant green.
A cornflower, too, flowered in another field, quite a treasure to find
where these beautiful blue flowers are so scarce. The last day of August
there was a fierce combat on the footpath between a wasp and a brown
moth. They rolled over and struggled, now one, now the other uppermost,
and the wasp appeared to sting the moth repeatedly. The moth, however,
got away.

There are so many jackdaws about the suburbs that, when a flock of rooks
passes over, the caw-cawing is quite equalled by the jack-jucking. The
daws are easily known by their lesser size and by their flight, for
they use their wings three times to the rook's once. Numbers of daws
build in the knot-holes and hollows of the horse-chestnut trees in
Bushey Park, and in the elms of the grounds of Hampton Court.

To the left of the Diana Fountain there are a number of hawthorn trees,
which stand apart, and are aged like those often found on village greens
and commons. Upon some of these hawthorns mistletoe grows, not in such
quantities as on the apples in Gloucester and Hereford, but in small
pieces.

As late in the spring as May-day I have seen some berries, then very
large, on the mistletoe here. Earlier in the year, when the adjoining
fountain was frozen and crowded with skaters, there were a number of
missel-thrushes in these hawthorns, but they appeared to be eating the
haws. At all events, they left some of the mistletoe berries, which were
on the plant months later.

Just above Molesey Lock, in the meadows beside the towing-path, the blue
meadow geranium, or crane's-bill, flowers in large bunches in the
summer. It is one of the most beautiful flowers of the field, and after
having lost sight of it for some time, to see it again seemed to bring
the old familiar far-away fields close to London. Between Hampton Court
and Kingston the towing-path of the Thames is bordered by a broad green
sward, sufficiently wide to be worth mowing. One July I found a man at
work here in advance of the mowers, pulling up yarrow plants with might
and main.

The herb grew in such quantities that it was necessary to remove it
first, or the hay would be too coarse. On conversing with