SHORT CUTS AND BY-PATHS. 



A FORWARD MARCH. 



The March of 1889 seemed not like ordinary 

 Marches. He came into the world playful and 

 bleating, like the lambs; with purling, flowing 

 sounds, in harmony with the bluebird's note, as 

 if he no longer cared to herald war with his trum- 

 pet blast and stentorian lungs, but played on the 

 low, sweet flute instead. On the very first day 

 of his reign, the tiny snowdrop bells, in sheltered 

 gardens, were swung on their slender pedicels by 

 troops of fairy zephyrs — strangely gentle legions 

 for the god of war to be marching in. For a 

 week or more this clement administration con- 

 tinued. The moths, ephemerae and blue-bottles 

 came out to enjoy the warm air and sheen. The 

 catkins of the pussy willows gleamed in the sun 



9 



