REMARKS ON THE SEASON. 28.5 
singing birds would come, and the voice of the turtle should again 
be heard in the land!” 
But the marks, on ourselves, of the hard season, had not dis¬ 
appeared with their cause; every face, from the prince to the 
mule-driver, bore the stamp of an exposed winter journey. Our 
eyes had long felt the effects of the sun’s glare upon the univer¬ 
sal stretch of snow which covered the country ; and our skin, 
from the alternate oven-heat of the places in which we lodged, 
and the cutting blasts from the outward air, had become so ten¬ 
der, broken, and scarred, that the pain of every rough change, 
was literally “ vexing a thing that is raw.” 
This balmy alteration, therefore, in the aspect of nature, and 
its atmosphere, could not fail to be hailed by us all, as the only 
balsam for our wounds; and, indeed, it seemed to unchain the 
faculties also, of every living thing in the cavalcade, from man 
to the lowest beast of burthen. All was bustle and talk, witli 
the neighing and prancing of horses, and one successive train 
of active and jocund motion. 
Numerous flourishing villages, with each its little embastioned 
fort rising amidst the most romantic sylvan scenes, stood in 
smiling security, amongst their rich tracts of land, already shoot¬ 
ing forth the first promise of an early and abundant harvest. 
This was, indeed, the “ soft green of the soul,” to our fa¬ 
tigued sight, dried, weakened, and irritated by constant fixing 
on a white and dazzling surface. Besides the amelioration of 
climate, the fertility of this charming vale must be attributed to 
the fine river, which waters the land to a great extent; but where 
the valley stretches itself beyond the influence of this fructifying 
element, and we left its banks, to traverse the more distant 
ground, we found the earth, so far from looking like winter just 
