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brightest verdure at the approach of SPRING, while the streams and the rivulets flash and sparkle as she smiles upon them; the lambs bleat in the pastures, and leap and sport gaily; the cuckoo shouts joyously, and the ringdove coos tenderly in the woodland depths; while the nightingale and the linnet, and, all the sweetest songsters of the forest and the grove, unite their voices as it were to welcome her; in short, all things and creatures seem to exclaim

Welcome, SPRING, for thou dost bring

With thee sunshine and sweet flowers;
Joy and mirth prevail on earth,

While thou dwell'st amid the bowers.

And the heart of the child was filled with delight; every thing was so new and strange to him; all creatures so kind and lovely; the world seemed made for his enjoyment; he forgot his sorrows, and danced and sung amid the grass and the flowers, sometimes in the golden sunshine, sometimes in the tender shade of the trees which are earliest in leafing, for as yet not many of them could boast their full garniture, or dress, of beautiful green foliage. There was the broadleaved Sycamore putting on its rich attire, and the Oak, and the Elm, and the Chestnut, and many of the stateliest trees were but clothing themselves for the coming festivals of nature, as SUMMER is sometimes poetically called, while the Willow, and the Poplar, and the Alder, which generally grow in moist situations, were fully arrayed.

And amid all these the child walked and talked with the "fair-handed SPRING," who, as the poet THOMSON says,

"Throws out the snow-drop, and the crocus first,
The daisy, primrose, violet darkly blue."

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These, and many other flowers, did she gather for her young charge, forming them into wreaths and garlands, pointing out their beauties, and telling him much of their history and qualities, "Look," said she, look at this cluster of lovely Snow-drops; seems it not as if the slightest gust of wind would bend them to the earth, and snap their green stems and break their airy cups into atoms? And yet they came up amid the snows of FEBRUARY, and have braved the fury of many an angry blast; it is not often that they are seen thus, several together, growing wild upon the hill side, or in the vale; and it is nearly certain that, where they do spring up in this manner, there was once a monastery, or a nunnery, with its garden surrounded by high walls that almost shut out the cheerful sun, where people, who were called monks and nuns, lived apart from the world, and spent their time in prayer and meditation. With these holy persons, as they were commonly considered, the Snow-drop was a favourite flower, as it is with us in the present day, partly from its extreme whiteness and delicacy of shape, and partly because it appears at a season when few other flowers are to be seen; it seems, as one who loves flowers well and writes of them charmingly, has observed, to say; 'Take courage; here am I come to cheer you with the hope of milder weather.' But see the crocuses; not those

which are

"like drops of gold

Studded o'er with the deep brown mould'

of the gardens, but those of a lilac tint, which may be found, though rarely, blooming amid the fresh grass of the level mead : as the poetess of nature, MARY HOWITT,

says;

"There's joy in many a thousand eye,
When first goes forth the welcome cry,
of lo! the crocuses!"

and she describes how the children run out and gether them by laps and baskets full, wild with delight at beholding what she terms the first joy of the year.' This is at one of those few places where they may be found growing abundantly. The Daisy, too, called by the old poets 'the Day's Eye,' or 'the Eye of Day, because it uncloses its pinky lashes,' as its leaves have been fancifully termed, when the sunshine begins to gladden the earth, and all things thereupon; how it twinkles here and there amid the grass, like a silver star with a golden centre ;

"O'er waste and woodland, rock and plain,

Its humble buds unheeded rise;

The rose hath but a summer reign,
The daisy never dies.'*

sings the poet, and truly, for throughout the stormy reign of my stern brother, WINTER, it may be seen sprinkled, though scantily, over the down, and met with in the most unexpected places, hence it has been compared by another poet to a pleasant thought 't which comes into the mind and cheers and brightens it.

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"But, hark!" said SPRING, suddenly breaking off her discourse about the flowers. "Hark, to the nightingale! that sweetest of all feathered songsters; he has lately arrived from the wilds of Africa, where he has been passing the winter season, and I know by his singing that my reign is about half over; thousands and thousands of miles has he flown, over sea and over land, since last he built his nest and reared his young ones in yonder grove; and when AUTUMN shall once more send his messengers, the chill winds, to shake the leaves from the trees, and his pelting rains to beat down and destroy the beautiful summer flowers, then will he, guided by that wonderful intelligence which God has given to all living creatures, to provide for their safety and sustenance, and which is called instinct, once more take wing and fly as straight as if he could see through the whole of his long journey to the destined place of repose, to these warmer regions, where food is abundant, and easily obtained: now he has come back to his old resting-place, and is making the woods and the groves around ring again with his sweet melody. And now

"The welcome guest of settled Spring,
The swallow, too, has come at last!
Just at sunset when the thrushes sing
I saw her dart with rapid wing,

And hailed her as she passed.'

See where she comes, like an arrow sent by a strong arm from a stout bow, as though she meant to fly right against us; and now how suddenly she turns, and with a graceful

sweep, poised on her motionless wings, skims over the meadow, and along the surface of the stream which glides through yonder valley, and glitters in the sunshine like silver; let us follow the course of her flight, and watch her swift movements for a while, as she pursues the insects, on which she feeds, many of them invisible to the human eye. Take care that you do not crush those five little eggs of a greyish brown, with spots of a darker hue, which are nearly hidden in that tuft of long grass; they are those of the skylark, which we now hear singing far up in the blue heavens; but we must not pause to listen to her strain, for we have many things to see, and to talk about, before the night comes on; and here we are now at the border of the stream, where the bending reeds give out a rustling sound, as the fresh gale passes through them, and where our friend the swallow loves most to sport, for here it is that at this season the gnats and early flies are most plentiful: see how she darts among that little cloud of tiny creatures, keeping close to the surface of the water for a considerable distance, and then taking a wide sweep which conveys her out of sight in an instant, and returning again as quickly to the same spot for a fresh supply of food for her little ones, which are no doubt snug in their nest beneath the eaves, or within the chimney of some cottage, or farm house, near at hand, for she is a social bird, and loves the habitation of man, which is not the case with the one whose curious cry we now hear sounding so far away in the woodland depths; listen! again it comes upon the breese-more like an echo than a real sound. Well might the poet WORDSWORTH exclaim :—

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