272 GARDENING OVER A WINTER FIRE. 



March, '73, it is hard to say. Now, at the open- 

 ing of the month, snow covers the ground to the 

 depth of two feet, and the title of one of Bul- 

 wer's novels, slightly changed, might well be ad- 

 dressed to Nature. " Whata^V/" she " do with 

 it" between now and April 1st ? March prom- 

 ises to maintain its proverbial bad character ; and 

 yet this month, so universally inveighed against, 

 h to me one of the most fascinating. Its darkest 

 days are full of hope and the knowledge of the 

 near approach of spring. We laugh at winter's 

 gloomiest frowns, since the old tyrant cannot 

 long maintain them, and must soon abdicate in 

 favoi of a gentler sovereign. Already spring, 

 like a young queen consort, tempers his haish- 

 ness, and soon she will occupy the throne alone. 

 Increasingly often there are bright, warm, sug- 

 gestive days when the decrepit tyrant cannot 

 appear, and she, unchecked, sways the sceptre, 

 all sweetness, grace, and benignity. 



