THE SPRING OF 1908 307 



paths were impassable, and we were strangely 

 reminded of February-fill-the-dyke ! Was there 

 anything wrong with the calendar? Had some 

 one blundered in its compilation? Old men of 

 seventy years tell me they have never experienced 

 such a Springtime, and it seems evident that 

 there was not within living recollection such un- 

 seasonable weather as that we passed through. 

 A little Field Mouse allowed me one morning to 

 watch him enjoying his breakfast. He was dex- 

 terously feeding upon the unrolled buds of the 

 Hawthorn, and I could almost stroke the gay 

 little sprite. I had been watching the Haw- 

 thorn for weeks past, but it hardly made any 

 appreciable move until the first week of May. 

 The blossom buds refused to burst and give to 

 the hedgerow that mass of milk-white bloom that 

 is associated with early Spring. Certainly, a 

 few wild plants were more courageous than the 

 rest. Hedge Parsley, Ground Ivy, Lesser Celan- 

 dine, Red and White Dead Nettles, and Greater 

 Stitchwort were in flower before April was past, 

 but the Garlic Mustard refused to budge until 

 that balmy Spring day, for which we all so 

 anxiously waited, arrived. 



We, like the animals and plants, appeared ill- 

 tempered and disconsolate. We were not ill, of 

 that we were certain, we were simply waiting for 

 the Spring — for soft winds, sunshine, blue, un- 



