SPUING. 



2 3 



The little pussies on the willows are coaxed 

 from their winter nest, and creep out upon the 

 stem. The solitary bluebird makes 

 his appearance, flitting along the 

 thickets and stone walls with little 

 hesitating warble, as if it were not yet 

 the appointed time to sing ; and down 



Wtii 



M 



I'i" ■ * ' 



.24 



among the bogs, that cautious little pio- 

 neer, the swamp-cabbage flower, peers above 

 the ground beneath his purple-spotted hood. 

 He knows the fickle month which gives 

 him birth, and keeps well under cover. 



Such days in March are too perfect to 



endure, and at night the sky is overcast and 



dark. Then follows a long warm rain that 



unlocks the ice in all the streams. 



The whiteness of the hills and meadows 



melts into broad contracting strips and 



patches. One by one, as mere specks 



upon the landscape, these vanish in turn, 



until the last vestige of winter is washed 



from the face of the earth to swell the 



tide of the rushing stream. Even now, 



*|r from the distant valley, we hear a contin- 

 uous muffled roar, as the mighty freshet, im- 

 pelled by an irresistible force, ploughs its tortuous 

 channel through the lowlands and ravines. The 

 quiet town is filled with an unusual commo- 

 P tion. Excited groups of towns-people crowd 

 Hk the village store, and eager voices tell of 



the havoc wrought by the fearful flood. /\ 

 We hear how the old toll-bridge, with 

 tollman's house and all, was lifted o*--*33u-Jf^ 

 from its piers like a pile of straw, / \f 



and whirled away upon the cur- '\ 



\ rent. How its floating timbers, in a 



great blockade, crushed into the old mill- 

 pond ; how the dam had burst, and the rick- 



