When we got up atop of the house there was more light, and a bit of sun sometimes, so that the birds lived better, and used to sing more, and we sold a-many. You see 'Arry had his nets, and traps, and call-birds, and in the fine weather we used to go down in the country together ketching linnets, and goldfinches, and redpoles. Sometimes we'd bring home a lark's or a nightingale's nest, and I used to help him all I could--cutting turves, and getting chickweed, and groundsel, and plantain, moss and wool for canary nests, and mosses and sprays for the bird-stuffers to ornament with, besides grasses of all kinds. There's allus sale for them sorter things, you know, and it's a honest living. Why, it was like getting into heaven to run down with 'Arry into the bright country--away from the dirt, and noise, and smoke; and I used to make him laugh to hear me shout and sing, and to see me running along a bank here to pick flowers, or stopping there to listen to the larks, and even running arter the butterflies; but he used to like it, I think, and allus took me with him when he could, for his mother lives with us and feeds the birds when we're out. Spring, and summer, and autumn, it was allus beautiful: flowers and fruit, and bright sunshine, and soft, gentle rain, and the sweet, sweet scent of the earth after. Oh, sir, shut yourself up for a month in a dirty room in a close court, where you can hardly breathe--live from hand to mouth, and p'raps not have enough--and then go out into the bright sunshine and on the breezy hills, with the green, shady woods there, and the sparkling stream there--the bees humming about on the heath bells, and all pure, and bright, and golden with the furze and broom--and then feel how it all comes over you, choking like, as if you were so happy you must cry, for it's all too sweet and beautiful to bear! 'Arry allus laughed at me, but I know him and his ways, and what it means when his eyes look so bright, and there's a twitching about the corners of his mouth: and the more wild and happy I seemed, the quieter he'd grow, poor boy, and then he'd take my basket away and carry it hisself atop of his cages and sticks and nets, and "Go along, my gal," he'd say, so that I should be free and light. For he's a good fellow is 'Arry, and never lifted his hand again me once in all the six years we've been married, not even when he came home a bit on.