LEAVES FROM AN APRIL JOURNAL. 37 



the squarely cut sticks, and shines like glass and 

 amber beads. Under a stone roof I disturb a pair 

 of beetles that are like bits of shining metal sud- 

 denly come to life, and scamper off in opposite 

 directions. Over head a pair of tiny kinglets move 

 about on the high limbs, like huge flies. Had these 

 little travelers, too, been duped by the delusive 

 April-fool weather, and begun their journey north- 

 ward too early ? As they fluttered among the 

 twigs it seemed they searched in vain for insects, 

 and were getting back to milder air again. 



A typical April soon follows, with alternating 

 sunshine and gentle showers ; the kind of weather 

 to make May-flowers and violets. BYom a shelter- 

 ing hemlock I see the soft rain fall straight down 

 on a patch of birch saplings, washing the young 

 bark, and stringing the twigs with diamond drops 

 of the first water. Anon the sun looks out from 

 the parted cloud curtains, and lights up these 

 globules with blue, green and gold, and sparkling 

 white. A column of wild geese are flying a half- 

 mile overhead. Their "honking," from this dis- 

 tance, sounds as if they were laughing and joking 

 with their file-leader, like a battalion of cavalry- 

 men. Through the glass I can see their com- 

 mander now and then slightly turn his head from 



