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THE YOUNG NATURALIST. 



NATURE IN MAY. 



By ALBERT H. WATERS, B.A., 



" The spring-time breaks all round about 



Waking from winter's night, 

 The sunshine, like God's love pours down 



In floods of golden light. 



" The flowers are strewn in field and copse, 



On the hill and on the plain, 

 The soft air stirs in the tender leaves 



That clothe the trees again." 



Frances Jane Douglas. 



The " Merry month of May " has come, and we feel now that nature has 

 awakened fully from her winter's sleep ; the trees are now no longer bare, but 

 clothed once more with verdure. We see on every hand signs that spring is 

 really here. 



I will beg leave to take my readers with me on another imaginary country 

 ramble ; this time on a bright May morning. Even before we get away from 

 the haunts of men we see how lovely the aspect of nature is at this time of 

 the year. In suburban gardens are blooming pansies, wallflowers, and many 

 others, which we have not time to notice with more than a passing glance. 

 The daffodils which were so conspicuous last month with their yellow perianths 

 have now gone off, but here and there we may see a white narcissus ; the 

 honeysuckle trained around yonder porch is beginning to bloom, and soon 

 will be beautiful with its fragrant flowers. 



Ha ! we have started a bird as we walk along. We see at once it is a 

 chaffinch, and doubtless has a nest in this hedge, out of which it has just 

 flown. We will look. Yes, there it is right in the centre of the hedge, and 

 we can see two or three greenish-blue eggs with reddish-brown dapplings 

 and purple spots and blotches. The normal number of eggs is five, so it is 

 evident they are not all laid, Notice how beautifully round and compact the 

 nest is, and what a great variety of material is used in its construction, hay, 

 moss, lichens, etc., while the inside is lined with horsehair. 



But now we will turn into the wood. No need to ask what bird it is we 

 hear singing so loudly, perched on yonder branch, it is the well known thrush 

 or mavis, and who can listen unmoved to his inspiriting notes. On a tine 

 spring day, such as this one we are imagining, we hear him at his best; well 

 might Sir Walter Scott's Forester, in " The Lady of the Lake," sing 



" Merry it is in the good greenwood 

 When the Mavis and the Merle are singing." 



The song of the thrush is a perfect musical composition, but the range of 



