It was only to be expected that Nature should point out to us the moment of this change by certain signs of an indubitable character; and she has accordingly placed them beneath the very hands of the agriculturist, bidding the leaves turn round[534] upon that day, and so denote that the luminary has now run its course. And it is not the leaves of trees only that are wild and far remote that do this, nor have those persons who are on the look-out for these signs to go into devious forests and mountain tracts to seek them. Nor yet, on the other hand, are they to be seen in the leaves of trees only that are grown in the vicinity of cities or reared by the hand of the ornamental gardener, although in them they are to be seen as well. Nature upon this occasion turns the leaf of the olive which meets us at every step; she turns the leaf of the linden, sought by us, as it is, for a thousand purposes; she turns the leaf of the white poplar, too, wedded to the vine that grows upon its trunk. And still, for her, all this is not enough. “You have the elm,” she says, “reared for the support of the vine, and the leaf of that I will make to turn as well. The leaves of this tree you have to gather for fodder, the leaves of the vine you prune away. Only look upon them, and there you behold the solstice;[535] they are now pointing towards a quarter of the heavens the reverse of that towards which they looked the day before. The twigs of the withy, that most lowly of trees, you employ for tying things without number. You are a head taller than it—I will make its leaves to turn round as well. Why complain, then, that you are but a rustic peasant? It shall be no fault of mine if you do not understand the heavens and become acquainted with the movements of the celestial bodies. I will give another sign, too, that shall address itself to your ear—only listen for the cooing of the ring-doves; and beware of supposing that the summer solstice is past, until you see the wood-pigeon sitting on her eggs.”