Spirit of Jefferson. [volume] (Charles Town, Va. [W. Va.]) 1844-1948, 1853-04-19
J. Misrel lIalleolt8.
SPRING.

An early Spring morningtlike those of the
past week carries one away into old times and
the country. The brooks are full from the re-
cent weeks rain, and you can hear them half
a mile off, so still is the whole country. And
yet there is light breeze stirring You feel
it on your face, and rs you pass the oak tree
You hear a rustling up among the branches IS
if there were return of life into its dried old
arms. In the hickory grove grey squirrel
sits on the very topmost branch of the tallest
tree, wiping his mouth with his paw, holding
fast with only one alta time; while farther down,
his companion is making the grove ring with
a shrill cherrup. You throw yourself down on
the dry leaves and enjoy the sun on your face,
and wonder how any one can have the heart
to shoot squirrel.
Just then a robin, the first you have seen,
flies into the tree above you and chirp and
whistle are answered by dozen Others now
coming. As you turn over on the leaves, a
little blue bud of the liverwort shows itself
among them, and as you touch it, it opens into
spring flower-and cherish it carefully, that
when you reach home you may give it to the
sad-eyed girl that is watching the golden sun
right through the window; for the first spring
flower to such one is redolent of purity, and
peace and hope; but you are half sorry YOU
brought it to her, for she looks SO sadly from it
out in the country and up into your anxious
eyes, that you don't know but you have sadden-
ed her with the thought that she NAV never
gather flowers again in the wood, or feel the
sunshine again except through the easement.
And you sit down by her and talk cheering
iy OF the coming summer; and as you see her
eye light up you grow glad once more. and
speak too cheefully and sudden solemn shad-
ow COMES over her face, and you turn toward
the hearth to hide your quivering lip.
On the hearth the blaze is dim, and the fire
is ssmouldering under accommodating ashes. The
smoke goes unwillingly up the broad chimney.
and you stoop to blow the fire into a blaze with
lips instead of the bellows, and you get your
eyes filled with smoke, which makes an excel
lent excuse for your tears, though that hardly
repays you for the fine ashes you have breath
ed into your lungs, and the choking cough YOU
have thereby caused.
And now you catch sight of your trout-rod
in the corner, and seizing it and your dry tackle
you stroll down by the brook, and where the
old mill stood you cast into the pool below the
broken dam, and hook a fine follow that YOU
land with a selfimportant feeling as if no one
else could hook or land trout in that STYLE
Then you would walk down the stream, some
1LIleS uooklllS llShs sDuI not 4OIIel, I0f they
are notye plenty; and atlength you pass around
the foot of the hill where the church stands. and
the graveyard slopes down close to the brook
and you stop and look UP and climb the fence,
and leave your tackle on the stone-waI. and
walk up to the hillock where since last autumn
the little one who never before had slept, save
in his mothers arms or by her bedside, has
been sleeping all the cold days and nights un-
der the snow. You find that the frost has
moved the sods, and you place them straight,
and cut willow branch down by the brook
and push it into the ground near the head of
the little grave, where it will grow into a tree
to shadow the mound; and you walk on then,
but you don't catch many fish after that, and
at length you lie down on rock, and think
and think till the sun goes westward. Verify
there is no end to the thoughts which an early
spring. day brings into life-Jour. of Com.