CHAPTER III. 



OPEN WINTER. 



THE frost and snow of early winter have softened, ere the 

 middle of the season, into such mild days, fields so green 

 and skies so tender, that one almost imagines himself in some 

 southern clime. Rain falls as easily as in April, and the air 

 is laden with a genial vapor, which almost threatens to bring 

 out the buds. 



What happy moments were those this morning, as I sat in 

 my study, by the large window facing the east, and watched 

 the coming of the morning ! It was announced by a delicate, 

 rosy tint, stretching like a band along the horizon — a fringe, 

 where the deep blue touched the darkened landscape. Anon, 

 the lambent flame pervades the whole chamber of the east, 

 transfiguring space itself, and strikingly in contrast with the 

 clouds in the foreground — still sable under the shadows of 

 retreating night. Now these dark clouds themselves have 

 caught the glow and are soon turned into amber and gold. 

 The rosy flames rise higher and higher, till they touch the 

 zenith ; and now a broad band of rich, transparent green 

 unrolls along the horizon, and the whole heaven is aglow with 

 the glory of the coming day. 



THE QUAIL. 



I must out, and away to the woods ! Passing through a 

 large peach-orchard, just before entering a beautiful, park- 



