84 HILLSIDE, ROCK, AND DALE 



BLUE-TIT 



I see the spring pageant 

 in another phase of its 

 glory. Over the broad 

 expanse of golden but- 

 tercups butterflies are 

 flitting, and whinchats 

 are calling as they sway 

 to and fro on the tall, 

 slender grass stems. 



Higher aloft still, the 

 skylark loudly sings his 

 song, and I must stop 



to find him. At length he is seen a dot in the 

 limitless expanse of blue ; but though so small he 

 floods the meadows with music, which is one of 

 the dearest sounds of the country. The young 



green trees, the bushes 

 and flowers, seem, as it 

 were, to respond to his 

 notes of love, and to 

 give out music of their 

 own. It is real enjoy- 

 ment to lie among the 

 buttercups and to watch 

 the varied life of this 

 fresh spring day. The 

 hours spent in commu- 

 BLUE-TIT ning w ith Nature and 



