1 8 FROM A MIDDLESEX GARDEN 



a short while since is now broken by the birds singing merrily, 

 their notes growing sweeter day by day, to herald the time of 

 the year, the beautiful season of 



" Spring, that sets all Nature free." 



Ofttimes now, as the season advances, the grey tint is 

 "banished, the veil from the sun's face is lifted, and again old 

 Sol deigns to smile upon the world; then quite beautiful is 

 the January river. The dead reeds and rushes, the dried 

 panicles and umbels of grasses and plants are like a tangled 

 mass of luminous threads which in fancy seem to be the woof 

 and warp on Nature's loom with which Spring will weave 

 into the green meadow-carpets her wondrous patterns in gold 

 and silver flower-stars. 



