A Spring Gossip 293 



the woods. But we should grow garrulous on the subject 

 and the season, if we were to wander thus into details. 



Among all the flowers of spring, there are, however, few 

 that surpass in delicacy, freshness, and beauty, that common 

 and popular thing, an apple blossom. Certainly, no one would 

 plant an apple tree in his park or pleasure ground; for, like 

 a hard day-laborer, it has a bent and bowed-down look in its 

 head and branches, that ill accord with the graceful bending 

 of the elm, or the well-rounded curve of the maple. But as 

 the day laborer has a soul, which at one time or another 

 must blossom in all its beauty, so too has the apple-tree a 

 llower that challenges the world to surpass it, whether for 

 the delicacy with which the white and red are blended - 

 as upon the cheek of fairest maiden of sixteen - - or the 

 wild grace and symmetry of its cinquefoil petals, or the 

 harmony of its coloring heightened by the tender verdure of 

 the bursting leaves that surround it. We only mention 

 this to show what a wealth of beauty there is in common 

 and familiar objects in the country; and if any of our town 

 readers are so unfortunate as never to have seen an apple 

 orchard in full bloom, then have they lost one of the fairest 

 sights that the month of April has in her kaleidoscope. 



Spring, in this country, is not the tedious jade that she is 

 in England, - - keeping one waiting from February till June, 

 while she makes her toilet, and fairly puts her foot on the 

 daisy-spangled turf. For the most part, she comes to us 

 with a quick bound; and, to make amends for being late, 

 she showers down such a wealth of blossoms, that our 

 gardens and orchards, at the end of April, look as if they 

 were turned into fairy parterres, so loaded are they - 

 especially the fruit trees - - with beauty and promise. An 

 American spring may be said to commence fairly with the 

 blossom of the apricot or the elm tree, and end with the 

 ripening of the first strawberries. 



To end with strawberries! AY hat a finale to one's life. 

 More sanguinary, perhaps (as there is a stain left on one's 

 fingers sometimes), but not less delicious than to 



"Die of a rose in aromatic pain." 



