EARLY SPRING IN MASSACHUSETTS. 195 
tallow and covered with fresh paint. Often 
they essayed to light on it and retreated in 
disgust. Yet one got caught. As they de¬ 
tected the wax concealed and disguised in this 
composition, so they will receive the earliest in¬ 
telligence of the blossoming of the first flower 
which contains any sweetness for them. It is a 
genial and reassuring day ; the mere warmth of 
the west wind amounts almost to balminess. 
The softness of the air mollifies our own dry 
and congealed substance. I sit down by a wall 
to see if I can muse again. We become, as it 
were, pliant and ductile again to strange but 
memorable influences ; we are led a little way 
by our genius. We are affected like the earth, 
and yield to the elemental tenderness. Winter 
breaks up within us. The frost is coming out 
of me, and I am heaved like the road. Accu¬ 
mulated masses of ice and snow dissolve, and 
thoughts, like a freshet, pour down unwonted 
channels. A strain of music comes to solace 
the traveler over earth’s downs and dignify his 
chagrins. The petty men whom he meets are 
shadows of grander to come. Roads lead else¬ 
whither than to Carlisle and Sudbury. The 
earth is uninhabited, but fair to inhabit, like 
the old Carlisle road. Is, then, the road so 
rough that it should be neglected ? Not only 
narrow, but rough, is the way that leaHeth to 
