. Little journeys abroad . n the garden,and tennis-playing and flower-picking. Bot-any and entomology were full of interest, 192 LITTLE JOURNEYS ABROAD. for in the field at the lower end of thegrounds, near the Birmandries road, wegathered thirty-seven different kinds ofwild-flowers, among them irises, crocuses,poppies, bugloss, mignonette, and greatsprawling stalks of asphodel and fennel ;and tiny white snails, horned beetles, andgiant grasshoppers were found and carriedindoors to be preserved as there were great fir-cones to begathered for our drawing-room fire, euca-lyptus lea
. Little journeys abroad . n the garden,and tennis-playing and flower-picking. Bot-any and entomology were full of interest, 192 LITTLE JOURNEYS ABROAD. for in the field at the lower end of thegrounds, near the Birmandries road, wegathered thirty-seven different kinds ofwild-flowers, among them irises, crocuses,poppies, bugloss, mignonette, and greatsprawling stalks of asphodel and fennel ;and tiny white snails, horned beetles, andgiant grasshoppers were found and carriedindoors to be preserved as there were great fir-cones to begathered for our drawing-room fire, euca-lyptus leaves to be collected for a tea forthe malarial patient, and orange blossomsand eucalyptus seeds to be dried forsachets. In the hedge that separated thevineyard from the carriage-drive, fieldmice ran in and out all day; and in Aprilwater wagtails, blue-headed jays, finches,and, later on, cuckoos and hoopoes sang,called, and flitted about over our noisy the cuckoos were, and howgorgeously plumaged were the hoopoes,. STREET fN OLD ALGIERS. VILLA LIFE IN ALGIERS. 195 and how saucy was a certain little brownbird whose name we never learned, andwho chattered away — chee, chee, chee —from morning till night! And in theevening, when the moonbeams fell in thecourtyard, the nightingales sang their full-throated melody, the scent of the orange-blossoms was blown in stronger sweetness,the- odor of Turkish tobacco lingered inthe air, and a spirit of magic and poetrywas abroad. Then it was a delight tostroll under the arcades and linger in theshadows, — a vivid delight to breathe andlisten, to be and to enjoy, to know thatnear us throbbed and heaved the Mediter-ranean, and that the soft wind that passedsighing, yet caressingly, above our heads,would pass on until it reached the desert. In the afternoons the coachman wasalways washing the carriages on the greatstone platform near the doorway, and theKabyle gardener was lying asleep under a 196 LITTLE JOURNEYS ABROAD. tree, whi
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