THE BENISON OF SPRING. 



FT^HESE Spring days, when we hear the bluebirds carol, 

 ^* I ** and mark the revivifying influence of the season, we 

 -L are sure to be affected thereby, and my companion 

 smiles to see me dance beneath the pine tree. " You seem 

 happy," he says, and yet I notice the light kindle in his 

 own eyes, for the sunshine, the bluebirds and the robins 

 have not come in vain to him. 



What a blessing are the balmy hours of Spring ! The 

 warm sun distills a fragrance from the earth, and in the 

 waste pastures, where there is a thick mat of vegetation, 

 this odor is particularly strong. Nature is stirring straw- 

 berries and crickets into life. The air is full of little flies, 

 beetles run along the roadway, dogs lay asleep on the grass 

 and the yellow flicker sounds his rattle in the trees. Then 

 does the light within burn brightest, and our hearts seem 

 to beat more joyously than they have all Winter long, and 

 we are happy and at least transiently well under the sun. 

 Old Sol smiles at our ways ; we are flies on the sunny side 

 of a pumpkin to him, and to ourselves we know not what 

 we are. 



