EARLY SPRING IN MASSACHUSETTS. 125 
to Bedford, and see that peculiar scenery of 
March in which I have taken so many ram¬ 
bles; the earth just bare and beginning to be 
dry, the snow lying on the north sides of hills, 
the gray, deciduous trees, and the green pines 
soughing in the March wind. They look now 
as if deserted by a companion, the snow. When 
you walk oyer bare, lichen-clad hills, just be¬ 
ginning to be dry, and look afar over the blue 
water on the meadows, you are beginning to 
break up your winter quarters and plan adven¬ 
tures for the new year. The scenery is like, 
yet unlike, November. You have the same 
barren russet, but now instead of a dry, hard, 
cold wind, a peculiarly soft, moist air, or else a 
raw wind. Now is the reign of water. I see 
many crows on the water’s edge these days. 
It is astonishing how soon the ice has gone out 
of the river. But it still lies on the bottom of 
the meadow. 
Is it peculiar to the song-sparrow to dodge 
behind and hide in walls and the like? 
Toward night the water becomes smooth and 
beautiful. Men are eager to launch their boats 
and paddle over the meadows. 
March 12, 1856. I never saw such solid 
mountains of snow in the roads. You travel 
along for many rods over excellent, dry, solid 
sleighing where the road is perfectly level, not 
