[Illustration: THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER VOL. XX.—NO. 1017.] JUNE 24, 1899. [PRICE ONE PENNY.] EARLY MORNING NATURE-STUDY. [Illustration: MRS. BRIGHTWEN IN HER GARDEN.] _All rights reserved._] To a true lover of nature hardly anything can be more thoroughly enjoyable than a quiet hour spent in some shady spot early on a summer’s morning, whilst the dew is still upon the flowers, and before any sounds can be heard except those made by happy birds and insects. In my garden there is a little dell embowered by trees, where I often spend an hour or two before breakfast for the special purpose of enjoying the company of my pet wild creatures. On one side are five arches, formed possibly some hundreds of years ago, since the great stones are grey with age and picturesquely moss-grown and ivy-clad. Young trees, too, are growing here and there out of the crevices into which the wind has wafted their seeds. In an open space before me are groups of stately foxgloves of every tint, ranging from purple through rose-colour to pure white. Some of them have stems fully seven feet in height, each bearing not fewer than a hundred and forty or fifty flowers. Not only amongst these foxgloves, but in the lime branches overhead innumerable bees keep up a continuous murmuring sound as they busily gather their morning store of honey. Various tall grasses are sending up their feathery plumes, and in a special bed where only wild flowers are allowed to grow, teasel, hypericum, valerian, and bog-myrtle are delighting my eyes by the free, graceful way in which they make themselves at home as if in their native habitat. Under one of the arches the birds always find an abundance of food, which I strew for them several times in the day. There I see young blackbirds, chaffinches, hedge-sparrows, wrens, and titmice feasting and flitting about, quite regardless of my presence. One advantage of this retreat is that no house-sparrows come here to annoy the more timid birds. The quietness and peace of this secluded spot is in marked contrast to the scenes I witness near the house. There sparrows reign supreme. They come down in flocks to gorge themselves and their offspring upon the sopped bread, rudely driving away many other kinds of birds that I would fain encourage. It may be observed that I have not spoken of robins feeding under the archway, because only one haunts this spot, and he is my special pet, and elects to sit on a bough close to me warbling his sweet low song, and occasionally accepting some choice morsel from my hand. When he was a brown-coated youngster I began to feed and attract him, and in one week he gained so much confidence as to alight on my hand. He is now my devoted adherent, flying to meet me in different parts of the garden as soon as he hears my voice.