Indian Spring 



subconsciousness strong enough to per- 

 ceive that his adventures were phantasmal 

 and transitory, and need cause him no anxi- 

 ety or moral distress. Indeed, the impres- 

 sion of tramping through April scenes in 

 February is distinctly dreamlike, and for 

 that very reason enchanting. I love to 

 spend whole days in this deceptive sun- 

 shine, with that ever-present, ghostly con- 

 sciousness of being translated beyond actual 

 place and time of being, in fact, a partly- 

 awake somnambulist in the night of the 

 year. It gives me a certain shuddering 

 delight to stand doubtingly in April sun- 

 shine, walled about on every side by cliffs 

 of winter, like Rasselas in his idyllic val- 

 ley. For to-day, at least, I will live and 

 think as if spring had actually come only 

 the charm of it will be the more delicate 

 and exciting, because I know (behind my 

 fancying) that winter has just slipped out 

 for a moment, and will presently darken the 

 door and take possession of the house again. 

 Last year (1899), in Massachusetts at 

 least, we had our Indian spring in the 

 middle of January. That week of mild, 

 sunny weather, beginning with the I5th, 



9 



