IN THE SPRING 387 



and the effect of this copious irrigation makes itself 

 felt in every branch of animal and vegetable hfe. 

 Within a few days the change is startling; the 

 paths and roadways choke themselves with a rich 

 clothing of newly sprung grasses, whilst the trees, 

 the extremities of whose tvidgs and branches have 

 been visibly swelling (bourgeoning is, I believe, the 

 unlovely word), now simply leap into leaf and 

 blossom. The mosses, which for months past have 

 looked Uke dry, bedraggled, colourless rags, regain 

 once more their vivid, tender green. Now the 

 forest throws off its puritanical greyness, and with 

 an activity and rapidity beyond belief, decks itself 

 in flowers of a thousand gorgeous shades of colour, 

 from the chrome-yellow and purple of the papilio- 

 naceous trees to the grateful mauve of the evanes- 

 cent convolvuli. 



Spring is now upon us, and we feel it. There is 

 that in the atmosphere which moves to procreation, 

 and the forest and the plain with one accord obey. 

 The birds now put on their finest feathers, the 

 animals appear in their brightest hues. Colour and 

 warmth run riot in the brilliantly clear air now 

 washed clean from the mist and smoke which for 

 so many months have obscured it. The clear 

 verdant green of rapid-springing grasses and 

 opening fronds clothes the landscape, and the 

 distant peaks of the mountains lose their pale, 

 bluey-grey haziness, and stand boldly out in the 

 light of the sun. The months succeed each other, 

 bringing with them new and strange beauties, for 

 summer is now at its height, and trees and flowers at 

 their most perfect period. Then, after a few weeks 



