EARLY SPRING IN MASSACHUSETTS. 
'February 24,1852. P. M. Railroad causeway. 
I am reminded of spring by the quality of the 
air. The cock-crowing, and even the telegraph 
harp prophesy it, though the ground is, for the 
most part, covered with snow. It is a natural 
resurrection, an experience of immortality. 
The telegraph harp reminds me of Anacreon. 
That is the glory of Greece, that we are re¬ 
minded of her only when in our best estate, — 
our elysian days, — when our senses are young 
and healthy again. I could find a name for 
every strain or intonation of the harp from one 
or other of the Grecian bards. I often hear 
Mimnermus; often, Menander. I am too late 
by a day or two for the sand foliage on the east 
side of the Deep Cut. It is glorious to see the 
soil again here where a shovel perchance will 
enter it and find no frost. The frost is partly 
come out of this bank, and it has become dry 
again in the sun. The very sound of mens’ 
work reminds, advertises, me of the coming of 
