82 HILLSIDE, ROCK, AND DALE 



birds give forth their pure, full notes, now from one 

 far-off corner, then from places nearer; then again 

 they flutter on, and the interval between their songs 

 is filled up by thrushes. Honeysuckle leaves are 

 opening, and in warmer spots the bushes now are as 

 green as the hedgeside banks. Then when we leave 

 the trees, the woodland sounds of spring seem to 

 fade into approaching night, and looking back, the 

 tall, dark spires of pines stand out in sharpest profile 

 against the darkening western sky. Little clouds of 

 humming gnats or midges are also out around our 

 head, and if we look along the hedge, these thousands 

 of flies look like smoke rising from the branches. 

 Above, the evening star is seen bright and peaceful, 

 and so the day dies, and all things seem to be at rest, 

 the busy day now being followed by the soft and 

 sweet hush of eventide in early spring. 



The pageant is now at its height. I wander into 

 an orchard, and there see the great sight in all its 

 fresh attractions. Acres of blossom covered trees 

 are here, seeming to be overburdened with a pro- 

 fusion of white petals. Thousands of insects are 

 unconsciously fertilising the flowers, and hundreds of 

 birds are feeding on the insects. There is quite a 

 babel of bird-music, all the notes being so full of the 

 happiness which spring brings in its train, that I 

 would not have one less. For perfect music let us 

 choose the songs of birds, when heard now among 



