MAY. 129 



anon, sounds like a sweet and clear-toned little 

 bell. Nests are now woven to every bough 

 and into every hollow stump. 



As the month advances, our walks begin to 

 be haunted with the richness of beauty. There 

 are splendid evenings, clear, serene, and balmy, 

 tempting us to continue our stroll till after sun- 

 set. We see around us fields golden with crow- 

 foot, and cattle basking in plenty. We hear the 

 sonorous streams chiming into the milk-pail in 

 the nooks of crofts, and on the other side of 

 hedges. 



Towards the close of the month, the mind, 

 which has been continually led onward by the 

 expansion of days, leaves, and flowers, seems to 

 repose on the fulness of nature. Every thing 

 is clothed. The spring actually seems past. 

 We are surrounded by all that beauty, sun- 

 shine and melody which mingle in our ideas of 

 summer. The hawthorn is in full flower ; the 

 leafy hedges appear half-buried in the lofty 

 grass. Butterflies take their wavering flight 

 from flower to flower ; and dragonflies on the 

 banks of rivers. Sheep-washing is begun in 

 many places. The mowing-grass presents a 

 mosaic of the most gorgeous and inimitable 



K 



