THE EARLY SNAKE 



THE windows of heaven are opened, and, instead of 

 the deluge that is usually associated with the well- 

 known words, a flood of thrilling warmth is poured 

 down. The scent of sunshine climbs on the breeze 

 and enters every room in the house, so that long 

 before the garden is reached we know that spring is 

 warmly kissing the earth. Daisies are wide open on 

 the lawn, the gravel path is warm to the touch, a 

 slight shake of the box sends the pollen flying from 

 its myriad flowers. Lastly, it is Gossamer Day. 

 This decided rap of Spring has called out the first 

 really successful draft of its army. The little spiders 

 have responded en masse, and, in the few hours since 

 high dawn, have spun the world over with glistening 

 threads to catch the sunbeams, which run along them 

 in orange and violet, or translate their patternless 

 mass into white mist. And now that the warm earth 

 is sending up a current of expanded air, the little 

 aeronauts are launching themselves by thousands, 

 and setting their invisible prisms at all angles in the 

 open sky. 



It should be the day of the first snake. At any 

 rate, the thought gives an objectiveness to a walk 

 round the woods, with a call at each haunt that knew 

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