SPRINGTIME 
123 
around their mothers. An old shepherd was crossing the field 
in a smock frock, with a crook in his hand and followed by his 
dog. The dog gathered the sheep together in very little time 
and began driving them towards the road, and very proud did 
he look of his charge. I rose with regret from my pleasant rest- 
ing place and crossed the meadow, attracted by some children 
gathering cowslips near a hedge which joined the wood. I 
noticed as I crossed the field that daisies were beginning to 
show themselves among the grass. As I approached the chil- 
dren I found they were making cowslip balls. One girl had made 
herself a wreath of ivy, moss and primroses. I thought as I 
watched these children that spring’s message of life and joy is 
better understood in childhood than in later years, for men, 
in their anxiety about the autumn, are often blind to the beau- 
ties of spring. I was recalled from my meditations by a tiny 
child offering me a bunch of violets. I made up my mind as 
I took them from her to walk along the bank by the field to 
hunt for some more of my favourite flowers. This bank was 
pleasantly shaded by the branches of some trees from the wood. 
The sunlight peeped through these branches, making a pretty 
variety of light and shade. The sun was already sinking in 
the western sky, and making the whole sky glow with gold. The 
days were short as yet, and some of the birds had already gone 
to roost, but the rabbits were still at play among the under- 
wood. A quiet stillness crept over me as the twilight deepened, 
and a powerful feeling of rest came upon my soul. This stillness 
and power belongs exclusively to the evening, and had a strange 
attraction for me. This time of day seemed to influence all 
creation alike. The birds sang more sweetly than all through 
the day, and the flowers breathed forth a more fragrant perfume. 
“ There is a calm, a sweetness, and a power, 
That morning knows not, in the evening hour.” 
Many creatures which rested during the day began to show 
themselves. Wood pigeons returned home and the wood was 
filled with their notes. The blackbird’s song could be heard 
from time to time and also the note of the robin, while the tink- 
ling of sheep bells in a distant field blended harmoniously with 
the whole. Everything reminded me evening was fast advancing 
with its hours of rest. I, too, was forced to think of repose, so 
I retraced my steps towards the station. As I passed an old 
farm a hen was clucking anxiously for a missing chick ; it soon 
came running to her call, and all her family was then comfort- 
ably settled for the night. Even the earth worms had begun 
their nightly rambles before I reached the station. The train 
at length bore me homeward, and although I was sorry to leave 
so much that was beautiful behind me I had stored away many 
a spring picture to be remembered when wintry skies and chilling 
winds have hushed the birds into silence and hidden the flowers 
from view. A. R. Francis. 
