UNDER APRIL CLOUDS 257 



He was the last of his kind. For the rest 

 of my walk I heard no music except the 

 sweet whistling of hyks here and there, and 

 once, in a woodland pool, the grating chorus 

 of a set of wood frogs. 



Butterflies are waiting for sunshine 

 like the rest of us ; I have not seen so much 

 as an Antiopa ; and the only wild flowers I 

 have yet picked are the pretty red blossoms 

 (pistillate blossoms) of the hazel; tiny 

 things, floral egrets, if you please to call 

 them so, of a lively and beautiful color. 

 Sunshine or no sunshine, they were in bloom 

 for Easter. 



