232 OUR WILD FLOWERS AND 



county, lay upon his death-bed. A bright sun looked in upon him 

 there, and reminded him of his favourite time of the year, and he 

 said, — " I shall never see the peach blossom, or the flowers of spring. 

 It is hard to die in spring ! " * 



" sad as he who dies in early spring. 



When flowers begin to bloom, and larks to sing. 

 When nature's joy a moment warms his heart. 

 And makes it doubly hard m ith bfe to part." 



As a contrast, yet a companion picture to this, let me take, as my 

 last instance, one evidently drawn from real life though veiled in 

 fiction. It is the case of a lady of high rank whose latter years had 

 been cast on evil days, and who, warned that the time of her de- 

 parture hence was at hand, visits her daughter's house, there to die. 

 *' One forenoon," says the daughter, " I did prevaile with her to let 

 them carry her a considerable distance from the House, to a sheltered 

 sunny spot, whereunto we did oft resort formerly to hear the wood- 

 pigeons which frequented the firre trees hereabout. We seated our- 

 selves, and did passe an hour or two very pleasantly : she remarked 

 how mercifully it was ordered, that these pleasures should remain to 

 the last days of life ; that when the infirmities of age make the 

 company of others burthensome to us, and ourselves a burthen to 

 them, the quiet contemplation of the works of God affords a simple 

 pleasure which needeth not aught else than a contented minde to 

 enjoy : the singing of birds, even a single flower, or a pretty spot 

 like this, with its bank of Primroses and the brooke running in there 

 t)elow, and this warm sunshine, how pleasant are they ! They take 

 back the thoughts to our youth, which Age doth love to look back 

 upon." — " The sweet season of Spring was delightful to her beyond 

 any other time of the yeare : " — and, adds the daughter, " as I 

 beheld her placid enjoyment, and heard her commend the delicate 

 beauty of a flower she held in her hand, remarking that she look'd 

 upon this portion of creation as in a particular manner worthy of our 

 sacred regard," she hopefully appropriated the emblems that were 

 springing up around her from a seeming death unto new life and 

 fresher beauty. For her it was easy to die in spring ! f 



We must now return to our almost forgotten family of children. 

 The youngest of them has grown to the age of her who whilom 

 carried him afield, and she has advanced far into girlhood ; and each 

 returning morning sees them all wending their way from home to the 

 hamlet, — a mile off or more, — where the school is, and where the 

 kind old master rules them to obedience and letters. On the road 

 there are several places to be crossed which are the scenes of tales 

 that have pleased, and will continue to please, every generation as 

 they come up in succession to this the proper period of life for 

 receiving all wondrous stories in unquestioning faith. Here the hollow 

 sound which issues from the earth, when trod upon heavily, tells of 

 a subterranean chamber in which unnumbered treasures lie guarded 



* Memoir of Robert Surtees, p. 18/. 



t Diary of Lady Willoughby. Lond. 1846. 



