Earliest Signs of Spring 
detect, as 1t were, the insidious blandishments 
and diplomatic wiles of artful spring—grim 
winter’s fair antagonist—who afterward so gal- 
lantly puts all his batteries to flight with her 
inexhaustible artillery of smiles. Winter, like 
a burly giant, relies for his supremacy on 
bluster and open violence. Spring’s victories 
are won by woman’s skill in dainty strata- 
gem. 
There are some individuals that always find 
the earliest indications of plant and animal 
life, in their region, with each returning 
spring. They have plucked the anemone, and 
heard the bluebird (which is like the rainbow, 
a gently uttered promise that there shall be 
no more winter), many days before the dis- 
covery is vouchsafed to others; and they take 
immense satisfaction in the fact that Nature’s 
secrets have been whispered to them first. The 
success of such people is due partly to good 
fortune; but I will not enviously rob them of 
all credit; it is due still more to a deathless 
ambition for such pre-eminence. If they made 
the first discovery, and were unable to publish 
it abroad, it would probably be, in the poet’s 
phraseology, like fire shut up in their bones. 
While I am equally glad to welcome these 
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