Impressions 



note suggests unoiled machinery; a grating 

 sound; a squeak. All these interruptions of 

 the silence, in a way, are welcome. They are 

 assurances that Spring is really here. Last au- 

 tumn and winter were good, but now it is Spring 

 and something better, and soon summer, best of 

 all. Best? Perhaps it is, but is there not a 

 wiser view, that of accepting each season so 

 cheerfully that it is perfect while it lasts'? It 

 would be better to drop our choice of seasons. 

 These May days are perfect ones of their kind, 

 but let each day, month, season, as it passes, 

 suffice us. 



May, magnificently arrayed and superbly at- 

 tended, we can think of only as a sovereign a 

 gentle queen. So, at least, she has often been; 

 but sometimes she is a sobbing, sorrowful 

 queen, copious tears falling nearly every day. 



To-day I measured this year's growth of a 

 young ash. It is twenty-two inches taller than 

 six weeks ago; and a young beech has a new 

 growth at the end of every limb, but is four 

 inches shorter than the ash. If we sowed the 

 seeds of trees in youth, we could walk in a for- 

 est before old age appeared. 



71 



