JUNE. 139 



It is now too that many of the forest trees put 

 forth their blossoms. The chestnut, in the 

 earliest period of the month, is a glorious ob- 

 ject, laden with ten thousand waxen pyramidal 

 flowers. Then come the less conspicuous, but 

 yet beautiful developements of other giants of 

 the wood. The sycamore, the maple, and the 

 hornbeam, are affluent with their pale, yellow- 

 florets, quickly followed by winged seeds; the 

 ash shows its bunches of green keys ; and, 

 lastly, the lime bursts into one proud glow of 

 beauty, filling the warm air with honied sweet- 

 ness, and the ear with the hum of a thousand 

 bees, — 



Pilgrims of summer, who do bow the knee 



Zealously at every shrine. 



The general character of June, in the hap- 

 piest seasons, is fine, clear, and glowing, without 

 reaching the intense heats of July. Its com- 

 mencement is the only period of the year in 

 which we could possibly forget that we are in a 

 world of perpetual change and decay. The 

 earth is covered with flowers, and the air is 

 saturated with their odours. It is true that 

 many have vanished from our path, but they 

 have slid away so quietly, and their places have 

 been occupied by so many fragrant and beauti- 

 ful successors, that we have scarcely been sen- 

 sible of their departure. Every thing is full of 



