A SPKING EELISH 171 



You cannot tell which, the fragrant ones are till 

 you try them. Sometimes it is the large white 

 ones, sometimes the large purple ones, sometimes 

 the small pink ones. The odor is faint, and re- 

 calls that of the sweet violets. A correspondent, 

 who seems to have carefully observed these fra- 

 grant hepaticas, writes me that this gift of odor is 

 constant in the same plant; that the plant which 

 bears sweet-scented flowers this year will bear them 

 next. — -- 



There is a brief period in our spring when I like 

 more than at any other time to drive along the 

 country roads, or even to be shot along by steam 

 and have the landscape presented to me like a map. 

 It is at that period, usually late in AprU, when 

 we behold the first quickening of the earth. The 

 waters have subsided, the roads have become dry, 

 the sunshine has grown strong and its warmth has 

 penetrated the sod; there is a stir of preparation 

 about the farm and all through the country. One 

 does not care to see things very closely ; his interest 

 in nature is not special but general. The earth 

 is coming to life again. All the genial and more 

 fertile places in the landscape are brought out; the 

 earth is quickened in spots and streaks; you can see 

 at a glance where man and nature have dealt the 

 most kindly with it. The warm, moist places, the 

 places that have had the wash of some building or 

 of the road, or have been subjected to some special 

 mellowing influence, how quickly the turf awakens 

 there and shows the tender green! See what the 



