86 PBOGRESS OF THE SEASONS. 



holidays, arrayed in the pleasing charms of early Spring, (brilliantly shone 

 upon, too, by the mighty Sol, in his increasing strength,) — may be conceived, 

 though not expi-essible in words. Sickness began to wear itself out quickly. 

 The birds felt the influence of Nature, and so did I. On Monday, Jan. 8th, 

 I rose as usual. The metropolitan carriage called for me at eight o'clock. I 

 was habited, and ready to start. But there was something so genial in the 

 atmosphere, which touched my spirits, (whilst opening the garden gate to 

 make my exit,) that I felt impelled to shake my head at the coachman. This 

 signified that he was to go on without me. " Out of sight, out of mind," 

 thought I, as I retraced my steps, determined to do something out of the 

 common way. 



Now the voices of the birds were every moment becoming more musical. 

 It was too much for me. "A walk," shouted I, mentally, — " and a long one !" 

 The air freshened, and the sun peeped out, as my mind became decided. 

 An over-coat, weighing some eight ounces, was thrown on my shoulders ; a 

 trusty stick was my companion ; and away, at once, I bounded. 



I love fair company, and I delight in genial spirits. But 7ioiv, the walk I 

 meditated was of such dimensions, that I felt prudence must be exercised. 

 If / chose to be eccentric, and do something out of the common way, it was 

 not right to compel others to do so too. " Spring," I argued, " will soon be 

 here ; and then we will 



" ' Together range the fields.' " 



The door opened on its hinges ; with an elastic spring I touched the ground ; 

 the garden gate closed behind me ; and ere the church clock had chimed 

 half-past eight, I was a mile on my rambles, — alone, but in good company. 

 My heart was full of guests. 



I hardly need tell you, that I haA-e materiel enough in my head and mind, 

 connected with the scenes of this day, to fill two complete numbers of The 

 Naturalist; but, as your readers and myself are "birds of a feather," and 

 can by latent aflinities of mind get at each other's inmost feeling (for Nature 

 works alike in the breasts of all her admiring children) under such circum- 

 stances, — I forbear enlarging on minuticB. The day M-as gloriously fine. The 

 birds were both nvimerous and musical ; and everywhere I found that hapfiy 

 innocence which is so inseparable from the quiet repose of Nature. 



I will now indicate the tortuous course of my footsteps. First, I sped 

 away through the orchards at the rear of Turnham Green Church ; sitting, 

 ever and anon, on a gate or stile, to enjoy the voices of the many hundreds 

 of little choristers by whom I was environed on every hand. Thence, I pro- 

 ceeded onwards by the side of the Thames, which was " confluent as a mirror, 

 and still as death," until I reached the noble gardens of Kew, — revelling, as I 

 went, in the many winter flowers peculiar to this district. The Lautustinns, 

 in particular, was abundant, and most luxuriant in blossom. To describe the 

 melody of the thrushes, blackbirds, and robins, in Kew Gardens, would be 



