102 ARBOR DAY 



sharper contrasts, a greater mixture of smiles and 

 tears and icy looks than are known to our ancestral 

 climate. Indeed, Winter sometimes retraces his 

 steps in this month, and unburdens himself of the 

 snows that the previous cold has kept back; but we 

 are always sure of a number of radiant, equable 

 days days that go before the bud, when the sun 

 embraces the earth with fervor and determination. 

 How his beams pour into the woods till the mold 

 under the leaves is 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 pre- 

 eminent 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 

 voyagers 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 hibernating 

 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. 



