Stray Leaves from a Border Garden 
and confusion in the small man’s mind. The following day 
a springe was set and the hole in the hedge blockaded, and 
no more has been seen of Master Rabbit — at least nothing 
authentic. There is a rumour he was seen on the farther side 
of the wire-netting, sadly peeping in at the paradise he 
could not enter, a little Woodland Peri at the gates. 
April i . — I hope Spring is not going to make an April- 
fool of the too confiding buds and leaves, and send Jack 
Frost later on to nip them ; they are all hurrying out to greet 
her : the whilome broomlike syringas are now covered with 
green tufts and the lilac is promising early bud (Laylock, 
Lilyoak, Pipe-tree, what quaint names this old favourite has, 
to be sure ! ). I watch daily a certain slim young poplar, as 
branch after branch seems to cover in an instant with tufts 
of the loveliest golden-green leaflets. I am rather partial 
to poplars. I always liked the long, white, far-stretching, 
straight as a die French roads, bordered with rows of tall 
poplars — I'cirbre de Liberte as the French sometimes call the 
peuplier. Bitterweed is an old Border name for the poplar, on 
account of its bitter bark, and there is an old saying, “ Oak, 
ash and elm-tree, the laird can hang for a’ three. But fir, 
saugh and bitterweed, the laird may flyte but make naething 
be ’et.” Now the old grey bushes of ribes are fast covering 
with their quaint grapelike bunches of red or white flowerets ; 
Siberian Currant is its other name, and perhaps the prettiest 
and most* quaint. What a contrast the quiet homely 
avenues of these northern homes must be to any of these 
currant-trees who may chance to cherish any recollection of 
their native Siberian steppes, snow covered, wind swept and 
lonely to a degree ! By the way, our unromantic and homely 
black currant also hails from Siberia, I believe. 
THE COMING OF SPRING 
Yonder he comes, across the snowy plains, 
The darling Prince, by Nature look’d for long, 
Circled by breezes, and soft April rains, 
Upon the air the echo of his song 
22 
