EAKLY SPRING IN MASSACHUSETTS. 191 
buttons so regularly disposed in oval schools in 
the air, or, if you please, along the seams which 
the twigs make, in all degrees of forwardness, 
from the faintest, tiniest speck of silver just 
peeping from beneath the black scales to lusty 
pussies which have thrown off their scaly coats, 
and show some redness at base or on close in¬ 
spection. These fixed swarms of arctic buds 
spot the air very prettily along the hedges. 
They remind me somewhat by their brilliancy 
of the snow-flakes, which are so bright by con¬ 
trast at this season when the sun is high. 
They are grayish, not nearly so silvery a week 
or ten days later, when more expanded, show¬ 
ing the dark scales. 
The fishes are going up the brooks as they 
open ; they are dispersing themselves through 
the fields and woods, imparting new life into 
them. They are taking their places under the 
shelving banks and in the dark swamps. The 
water running down meets the fishes running 
up. They hear the latest news. Spring-aroused 
fishes are running up our veins too. Little fishes 
are seeking the sources of the brooks, seeking to 
disseminate their principles. Talk about a re¬ 
vival of religion ! Business men’s prayer meet¬ 
ings, with which all the country goes mad now! 
What if it were as true and wholesome a revival 
as the little fishes feel which come out of the 
