MEADOW, where the young grass gleams, or darkens, according 

 to the flowing of the breath of Spring ; copse, where the rod 

 must be carried low, because of the catkins and the crenelled 

 leaves fluttering their new gloss against the fleecy sky ; prim- 

 rose, that may be any colour it thinks fit for who could take 

 two looks at it now ? And then the sly wink of a very know- 

 ing STREAM, and the sound even sweeter than our true love's 

 "Yes" the silvery flop of a big trout rising in the limpid alcove 

 from which we mean to haul him'out. For all the above joys, 

 see within ! 



Other delights of nature, too, (so freely afforded to the heart of 

 man, that his small perception multiplies them,) into the bower 

 of the memory come gliding, or jump, upon encouragement, 

 the steps of hope ; whenever a friend (whose accuracy has for 

 many years been proven) tells us of the young renewal, which a 

 good man only can achieve by tracing, in the latter days, the 

 quiet outset of the path which has straightened but not 

 straitened in the push and hurry of the less Idyllic life. 



R. D. BLACKMORE. 

 January, 1896. 



