44 Every flower and bird has a story of its own in the garden, only 

 it varies with the mood of the owners*" 



HELEN MILMAN. 



APRIL 



/ T~" S HE beautiful days of waking Spring are unfolding. In 

 -* glade and hollows the daffodils are nodding in the still, 

 cold breeze, and in the height of their loveliness golden stars 

 of the celandine and coltsfoot are twinkling on many an 

 emerald bank. Life is indeed at this season 



" Lovely to live, and life a sunlit stream 

 For ever flowing to a changeless peace." 



How enjoyable it is, now that the days are growing longer, 

 to walk in the warmer sunlight through field and woodland, 

 to breathe the air fragrant with the scent of violets, sweet 

 with the breath of primroses, musical with the voice of birds ! 

 The pink of the almond blossoms has faded ; the first bright 

 bloom to appear telling us we were on the threshold of 

 spring. Soon we shall hear echoing through the forest 

 sanctuaries the twin note of the cuckoo, the cooing of the 

 woodland doves in the graceful larches : perfect harmonies in 

 Nature's temple ! The flowers of Spring the violet, the 

 pearly wood-sorrel, the wind-flower, the primrose whisper 

 to us of contentment, hope, and faith. Hope and faith, by 

 waiting through the long cold days of winter under the fallen 

 leaves until the voice of Spring should call them from sleep ; 

 contentment we might learn from the modest violet, the 

 most fragrant of all our English flowers, yet contented to 

 hide away, and thankful for its lowly sphere. 



If we would take to heart one or two lessons the Spring 



75 



