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loud thunder and bright lightning, for these would 
cool the hot air and open its doors for fresh breezes. 
For many days nothing was to be heard but the 
merry song of the waters ; but one pleasant after¬ 
noon Mary went out with her mother, and they 
opened the little gate at the bottom of the garden 
and walked into the meadow. 
The river had returned to its bed. The brook 
was now tumbling over the rocks, and gliding 
through the grass, which already looked green, and 
the buds of the vines were just bursting into leaves. 
None of the forest trees had put on their mantles, 
except the pale green willows,—their long pendent 
branches kissed the sweet stream as it now glided 
gently along. 
On every side, the blue Violets were peeping 
through the grass, and troops of Anemones had 
