A YEAR IN THE FIELDS 



warm and emits an odor ! The waters glint 

 and sparkle, the birds gather in groups, and 

 even those unwont to sing find a voice. 

 On the streets of the cities, what a flutter, 

 what bright looks and gay colors ! I recall 

 one preeminent day of this kind last April. 

 I made a note of it in my notebook. The 

 earth seemed suddenly to emerge from a 

 wilderness of clouds and chilliness into one 

 of these blue sunlit spaces. How the voy- 

 agers rejoiced ! Invalids came forth, old 

 men sauntered down the street, stocks went 

 up, and the political outlook brightened. 



Such days bring out the last of the hiber- 

 nating animals. The woodchuck unrolls 

 and creeps out of his den to see if his clover 

 has started yet. The torpidity leaves the 

 snakes and the turtles, and they come forth 

 and bask in the sun. There is nothing so 

 small, nothing so great, that it does not 

 respond to these celestial spring days, and 

 give the pendulum of life a fresh start. 



April is also the month of the new furrow. 

 As soon as the frost is gone and the ground 

 settled, the plow is started upon the hill, 

 and at each bout I see its brightened mould- 

 board flash in the sun. Where the last 

 remnants of the snowdrift lingered yester- 

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