Now, as they are wandering across the meadows thinking of nothing less, gleams of white among the green grass greet the eyes of bird-nesting boys, who all at once dart upon the welcome prize, and draw out from its hiding-place piece-meal what was once a Mushroom; and forthwith mushrooming becomes the order of the day.--Now, the lowermost branches of the Lime-tree are "musical with Bees," who eagerly beset its almost unseen blossoms--richer in sweets than the sweetest inhabitants of the garden.
Finally, now we occasionally have one of those sultry days which make the house too hot to hold us, and force us to seek shelter in the open air, which is hotter;--when the interior of the Blacksmith's shop looks awful, and we expect the foaming porter pot to hiss, as the brawny forger dips his fiery nose into it;--when the Birds sit open-mouthed upon the bushes; and the Fishes fry in the shallow ponds; and the Sheep and Cattle congregate together in the shade, and forget to eat;--when pedestrians along dusty roads quarrel with their coats and waistcoats, and cut sticks to carry them across their shoulders; and cottagers' wives go about their work gown-less; and their daughters are anxious to do the same, but that they have the fear of the Vicar before their eyes;--when every thing seen beyond a piece of parched soil quivers through the heated air; and when, finally, a snow-white Swan, floating above its own image, upon a piece of clear cool water into which a Weeping-Willow is dipping its green fingers, is a sight not to be turned from suddenly.
But we must no longer delay to glance at the Garden, which is now fuller of beauty than ever: for nearly all the flowers of last month still continue in perfection, and for one that has disappeared, half a dozen have started forward to supply its place.
Against the house, or overhanging the shaded arbour, among Shrubs, we have the Jasmin, shooting out its stars of white light from among its throng of slender leaves; and the white Clematis (well worthy of both its other names, of Virgin's Bower, and Traveller's Joy) flinging its wreaths of scented snow athwart the portico, and rivaling the Hawthorn in sweetness; and the Syringa, sweeter still. Now, too, the large Lilies lift up their lofty heads proudly, and do not seem to forget that they once held the rank of Queens of the Garden;--the rich-scented white one looking, in comparison with the red, what a handsome Countess does to a handsome Cook-maid.