MARCH. 73 



strange aspect of a flickering fragment of noon-day sud- 

 denly appearing in their midst ; they are intoxicated by 

 the novelty. The warmth, too, rouses their energies, as it 

 did mine, and curiosity brings them to the fore. Alas ! 

 that they have not knowledge of the nature of fire. It is 

 as sunlight and as sun- warmth, and its source as distant 

 as the light of day. They play about it in perfect safety, 

 and only fall when they attempt to pass over it. 



At last the flames lose strength; the glowing coals 

 grow dull; black and gray ashes seam the ruddy mass, 

 and darkness, creeping from the outer world, broods over 

 all. The aspect is over, the excitement passed, but the 

 memory of an unalloyed joy is not ours. It saddens one 

 to think that the sparrow that delighted us with music 

 throughout the day may have fallen into the flames. 



I have said that by March 1 the world is interested in 

 every supposed sign of spring ; and all through the month 

 the discussion of each sign's merit has been kept up, not 

 only in the parlor, but in the kitchen, the tavern bar-room, 

 and the village store. Then, too, there have been hosts 

 of meteorological screedlets in the local papers. Boiling 

 all this wisdom down, the residuum is ignorance. 



If ice, snow, unremitting cold, fewer mild days than 

 February boasts, and every variety of chilling wind, go to 

 make up our winter, then count in March. But in spite 

 of every arctic element, there are occasional crumbs of 

 comfort for the botanist, if none for folk less favored. 

 Over his countenance there occasionally flits a gleam of 

 satisfaction, and the winds are tempered when, with a 

 sprig of arbutus in his button-hole, he returns from an 

 outing. 



