on the ground. Not long after, the alders in the 

 swamp unfold their clusters of drooping aments 

 which have been on the tree stiff and rigid 

 throughout the winter. Thousands of little tails 

 are thus mysteriously hung out on the alder twigs 

 to sway gently in the breeze, turning from a red- 

 dish hue to a sulphur-yellow as they expand and 

 become powdered with pollen. Born into a frosty 

 world when the feeble sun is still distant and cold, 

 the March flowers are a link between winter and 

 spring. But Nature has certainly relaxed her fea- 

 tures; there is just the ghost of a smile on her icy 

 lips. 



This year I heard the bluebird's warble on the 

 4th of February, but did not see the bird, and 

 heard no more till early in March, when they 

 came in flocks. Out of the sky comes to us this 

 liquid note, as if the heavens had opened and 

 poured upon us their benedi&ion. How sweet it 

 is to the ear, what music to the heart ! And when 

 suddenly a little flock starts up from the wall or 

 fence, how rich and welcome to the eye, long 

 denied its modicum of color, is the blue of their 

 backs! We have had little but artificial tastes and 

 colors and perfumes for so long that the senses 



