APRIL 73 



dented leaves from the sod, and throwing out a 

 few coins of that larger minting which is the 

 true largesse of May. Clovers would follow, 

 daisies would follow. Buttercups would be 

 there, bindweeds, milkweeds, speedwell, catch- 

 fly, yarrow, with mullein, mints, each so 

 generously given, each stealing after his fore- 

 runner so silently and so surely that we have 

 hardly time to say " The clover is here," before 

 the clover has gone, and we are crying "It is 

 yarrow-day ! " 



With April in the air, comes a passionate 

 desire to be in the open, and to one who is 

 village-bred it is to village garden plots that he 

 would return. There, he knows, the dark soil 

 is already turned up toward the sun by that 

 first spading which, like the sowing of seeds, 

 and the gathering in of harvests, has the 

 symbolism of the most elemental acts. In the 

 village streets householders are keeping a 

 holiday by burning the waste and wreckage 

 of last year. It is almost a religious rite, the 

 making of these vernal fires. There is a 

 special colour and odour given off from them, 

 and the man with his rake, or the woman with 

 her basket just emptied on the smoking, 



