OPENING OF SPKING. 5 



bounding over the fence, and alights on a bed of prim- 

 roses, itself scarcely distingnisliable from one of them. 

 On the commons and open downs the lovely little "bines" 

 are frisking in animated play ; and here and there a still 

 more minute " copper" — tiniest of the butterfly race — 

 rubs together its little wings, or spreads them to the sun, 

 glowing with scarlet lustre like a coal of fire. 



The beetles are active, too, in their way. The tiger- 

 beetle, with its sparkling green wing-cases, flies before our 

 footsteps with watchful agility, and numerous atoms are 

 circling round the blossoming elms, which, on catching 

 one or two, we find to belong to the same class ; the dark- 

 blue Timarcha — the bloody-nose — is depositing its drop 

 of clear red liquid on the blades of grass ; and if we look 

 into the ponds, we see multitudes of little black, brown, 

 and yellow forms come up to the surface, hang there for 

 a moment, and then hurry down again into the depths. 

 And then come up the newts from their castle in the mud, 

 willing to see and to be seen ; for they have donned their 

 vernal attire, and appear veritable holiday beaux, arrayed 

 in the jjomp of ruffled shirt and scarlet waistcoat. The 

 frogs, moreover, are busy depositing their strings of bead- 

 like spawn, and announcing the fact to the world in loud, 

 if not cheerful strains. 



The streams, freed from the turbidity of the winter 

 rains, roll in transparent clearness, now gliding along 

 smooth and deep in their weedy course through " th' in- 

 dented meads," where the roach and the dace play in 

 sight, and the pike lies but half-hidden under the pro- 



