A SPRING WALK. 253 



lime study, which renders it ever new, ever interesting; and much as he 

 may have given his whole and undivided attention to it, there will per- 

 petually occur something novel to add zest to his enjoyment. 



Four or five months of comparative dreariness have passed away, and 

 the woods have been well-nigh mute; no longer the bright stream of the 

 flowing river echoed to the enlivening twitterings of the Swallow tribes, 

 nor the golden orb of day caused perfume to exhale from every tuft of 

 verdure and bush of the forest, nor was the silence of the earth, air, or 

 grove broken by one dulcet note. It is April in its earlier youth, and a 

 few of the budding beeches and sycamores begin to put forth small peeping 

 leaves of the most beautiful yellow green. The sun sheds his mild 

 influence over the scene, which partakes of the two seasons, now at their 

 junction. Winter is gradually giving place to its benign successor, and 

 as you walk by the road-side, the dry leaves which crackle beneath your 

 feet are broken up with green herbage that peeps through them, and is 

 rising amongst them. 



"Oh! 'tis a glorious sight; the heaming rays 

 Seem to pervade, seek out, and penetrate 

 The deepest nooks, the unprotected plains, 

 The mountain tops, (where snow, yet lingering, rests,) 

 And creeping through the thick and dry dead leaves, 

 Seem to search out the verdure from beneath, 

 That lurks within the earth's unfettered mass; 

 Till, first at intervals, the rising germs. 

 Lifting the crackling crust that clothes them o'er, 

 Sprout into view, irregular and scarce; 

 Then spreading forth their tender tiny leaves, 

 O'ercome, at length, their dry and lifeless vest, 

 And flourish in one verdant covering!" 



You stop for the very purpose of basking in the genial warmth, and 

 whilst thus enjoying the vivifying influence of the scene, you hear the wild 

 laughing note of the Willow- Wren, and see the Sulphur Butterfly flitting 

 amid the brambles. What a feeling does such a sound and such an object 

 call forth; there is an impulse in your bosom full of hope, full of pleasure; 

 you know that these are the harbingers of everything that is lovely on 

 the face of Nature, the very novelty, the sweet freshness in the prospect, 

 gladdens the heart, and gives rise to the brightest anticipations. Advance 

 yet one short month, (having been resident in town during the interval,) 

 and take a stroll once more in the same scene, and with the sun beaming 

 unclouded upon you. It is the perfection of rural beauty, everything is at 

 its brightest, and all the summer-feathered visitants have arrived. As you 

 listen to the chorus from an hundred throats, which sounds on every side, 

 you may distinguish at intervals, every well-known, though long-absent 

 voice. The Whitethroat chats harshly from the hedge-row; the Blackcap 



