The Bents on of Spring. 15 



We meet an old man along the road and he tells us 

 how he's had a cold all Winter. " If I could onlv have 

 gone South," says he, " but what can a poor man do ? " 

 But now it is Spring, and he straightens himself up and 

 looks brighter. A dose of Spring cures many a malady. 

 If we wait long enough the Earth transports us from the 

 pole to the equator, and we finally get thawed. We shed 

 our overcoats — our outermost cuticle comes off — and may- 

 hap the moths wear it all Summer. Thus do we greet the 

 warm days, and hope grows with the radishes in the gar- 

 den. 



Alas, our best health, the most robust condition that 

 many of us ever attain, would be considered by some a 

 state needing a doctor's care. Our ills fit us after a while 

 like old clothes. Life hangs by a thread, and even that is 

 seldom a whole one. Several of its strands are commonly 

 broken ; we patch them together and put a porous plaster 

 over the weak spot. Thus do we live, being half dead. 



But Spring is a blessing; we become more sprightly 

 than usual, and he must be old and miserable, indeed, who 

 does not glow a little when he sees the violets, the ane- 

 mones, the adders' tongues, and hears the sweet cadence 

 of the field sparrow's song. Why is it that they look up 

 to Heaven when they sing ? I suppose it may be ex- 

 plained in some mundane way that will give no credit to 

 spiritual feelings ; but certainly it is a pretty form of the 

 chippie's and of this bunting of the pastures. 



I must not forget the dandelions that star the grass all 

 over, for they are truly the flowers of our balmy days, and, 

 indeed, they are not happy if the sun does not shine, for 



