102 A MARCH CHRONICLE. 



the rivers, ready to dart up them if the genial influ- 

 ence continued. The bees in the hive also, or in the 

 old tree in the woods, no doubt awoke to new life ; 

 and the hibernating animals, the bears and wood- 

 chucks, rolled up in their subterranean dens, I im- 

 agine the warmth reached even them, and quickened 

 their sluggish circulation. 



Then in the afternoon there was the smell of smoke, 

 the first spring fires in the open air. The Vir- 

 ginia farmer is raking together the rubbish in his 

 garden, or in the field he is preparing for the plow, 

 and burning it up. In imagination I am there to 

 help him. I see the children playing about, delighted 

 with the sport and the resumption of work; the 

 smoke goes up through the shining haze ; the farm- 

 house door stands open, and lets in the afternoon sun ; 

 the cow lows for her calf, or hides it in the woods ; 

 and in the morning, the geese, sporting in the spring 

 sun, answer the call of the wild flock steering north- 

 ward above them. 



As I stroll through the market I see the signs 

 here. That old colored woman has brought spring 

 in her basket in those great green flakes of moss, 

 with arbutus showing the pink ; and her old man is 

 just in good time with his fruit-trees and gooseberry- 

 bushes. Various bulbs and roots are also being 

 brought out and offered, and the onions are sprouting 

 on the stands. I see bunches of robins and cedar- 

 birds also so much melody and beauty cut off from 

 the supply going north. The fish market is begin- 



