CHARMS OF A SPRING MORNING. 287 







like an aged coquette, it had hung closer, and seemingly the 

 more enamoured, as its years advanced. Of the above accom- 

 modations, of those at least which afforded rest and shade, we 

 were disposed that morning to avail ourselves, and we sat 

 down not to reflect (unless it were on the happiness around 

 us), but simply to feel, to give ourselves up, as passive reci- 

 pients, to all the fresh and sweet, peaceful and exhilarating 

 influences of the hour. 



Was there a single object within view, or a single sound 

 within hearing, that could possibly awaken one discordant 

 emotion ? The sheep in an adjoining field were bleating of peace 

 and good-fellowship ; the turtle was repeating her lay of love ; 

 and the " shivering note " of the little willow wren, with a thou- 

 sand others, took up the tale. Pleasure was on the wing in a 

 throng of insect forms, and humming her delight in a chorus 

 of insect voices. Hope was in the season happiness appa- 

 rently in everything; and yet, as we sat and looked down 

 upon the smooth surface of the waters, itself an image of 

 bright tranquillity, thoughts of violence, cruelty, and de- 

 struction took sudden and forcible possession of our mind. 



Such a confession, unexplained, might suffice to convict us 

 of something much amiss in that hidden receptacle, the heart ; 

 something sadly at variance with all the smiling things around. 

 That thus it has often been we may not, alas ! deny ; but the 

 fault on the present occasion lay, we verily believe, less with 

 heart than head, with that specific organ which led us first to 



