SPKING 



" He would now be up every morning' by break of day, 

 walking to and fro in the valley.' ' — Bunyan. 



It was a white day, tlie day of tlie red 

 cherry, — by the almanac the 20th of May. 

 Once in the hill country, the train ran hour 

 after hour through a world of shrubs and 

 small trees, loaded every one with blossoms. 

 Their number was amazing. I should not 

 have believed there were so many in all New 

 Hampshire. The snowy branches fairly 

 whitened the woods ; as if all the red-cherry 

 trees of the country round about were as- 

 sembled along the track to celebrate a festi- 

 val. The spectacle — for it was nothing less 

 — made me think of the annual dogwood 

 display as I had witnessed it in the Alle- 

 ghanies and further south. I remembered, 

 too, a similar New England pageant of some 

 years ago ; a thing of annual occurrence, 

 of course, but never seen by me before or 



