POCKETS OF SPRING 



IT is weeks since we renewed our youth by picking 

 the largest cowslips that grew on the ridges of our 

 fat southern fields. Yet we have to travel a very 

 little northwards to see the pleasant " paigles " still 

 spangling the meadows with their unmistakable pale 

 green. Just beyond the H umber we are still rejoicing 

 in long purples, milkmaids, and other jewels of the 

 field that we had thought to have seen the last of. 

 Marsh-marigolds still exhibit their fat beauty ; stitch- 

 wort is scattered over acres, like rice at Spring's great 

 wedding ; the gorse bushes are one unbroken blaze 

 of gold. 



The moorland has caught the strength of the sun, 

 and responded at length as amorously as the com- 

 mons of Surrey. On the greatest heights the cloud- 

 berry has opened its great blossoms, that remind us 

 at once of the anemone and the blackberry ; a little 

 lower the bearberry exhibits clusters of pink-and- 

 white bells at the tips of its box-like foliage ; the 

 whinberry has pink blossoms like globes of fruit, 

 each filled with a tiny drop of honey of exquisite 

 sweetness ; the bottle-like fruit is also there, though 

 in green instead of the bloomed black that will 

 refresh the traveller next month. The whinberry 

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