The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1893-03-15
A Daffy. Down Dilly---A Page from an
English Girls Life.
BY ADA NJ. TRoTTER,

A card board box is left at the door,
eager hands lift the lid, there is cry of
Joy. o, the daffodils! Outside is what
has come to us of the western blizzard
hard, crisp snow, a wind that breaks
the elms, and sets the pine boughs
swaying; the night is closing in dark
and cruelty cold.
And vet here lie the golden daffodils.
Are they wizards? So it seems, for, as
we look at their fringed petals, we are
swept away from this land of ice and
snow, and stranded in England in our
village not mile from Severn. We
are in the vale; hills rise behind us
closely wooded, and we look across the
river to the town of Berkeley, where
stands the old castle in which Edward
II. was foully murdered. To the right
of us are the Welsh mountains, and we
have but few miles to drive to reach
the borderland. We can at will turn
our steps towards Tintern, the most
beautiful of ruined abbeys, or to the
castles of Raglan, Chepstow and Good
rich-a few hours will carry us to either
one. This is the rich country of our
childhood.
And now for the seasons. January
brings us primroses in sheltered hooks.
Take the turnings at the village Prize
Dieu Greeted in the twelfth century,,
follow the road to the copse of oak and
beech, then dive into that lane at the
left. Look round you now, and choose
your steps; the streams that meander
here with shallow ripples are certainly
little troublesome, but then the road
is stone paved-evidently built to last
forever This, friends, is the old Ro-
man road, built by the Roman armies
eighteen hundred years ago. Here
sheltered by high banks, spring comes
to stay in the first month of the year
The celandine is there with its flarine
yellow face, and the perfumed breath
of the primrose calls us hither and
woodlands, some six miles from oul
village. No matter were it ten, for oui
steps would know no tagging. We
carry baskets with us, and line then
well with the softest moses, and rur
along, gay at heart as the lark that soars
above us and thrills his rapturous song
in the very zenith.
In March the daffodilsl
We set our faces wards, fol
we are bound for the salt marshes. The
blackthorn shows white blossoms or
the hedge rows; and here, down the
lane amongst nettles and celandines
look carefully and you will find plenty
of perfumed violets, white and blue
O, but the lanes are muddy! The sulky
cattle wend their way to the marshes
sinking deep in the quagmire. Let III
vault the fences and strike the meadow
paths, cross the many brooklets, lingel
as usual in vain attempt to catch thu
sticklebacks and gudgeons-and theI
turn aside from our quest to hunt To-
plover's eggs. And yet, erratic though
our course may be, here we are a
last, stranded in the marsh with tn,
daffodills. There they stand with thei
nodding yellow heads glowing in thu
sunshine. In moment our hand
are full, and then our arms, and thel
last resource as the blossoms fal
about us-we hold up our pinafore
and thus carry home our treasure trov,
of plenty.
April sends us far afield for cowslips
and the bold marsh-marigold, tn
cuckoo flower and oxslip. o, yesl W
carry home our fragrant burdens, loi
tering in the pleasant sunshine, shelter
ing often from the short-lived rain
clouds. Sunshine and showers-April'
prophecy of what life will bring us, a
the years pass on.
Then comes May,-and the hawthorn
spreads It's snow upon the hedge-rows
our gardens are rich in gilly-hower an
tulips, and the early roses come i
bloom. A white-starred clematis rival
perfumed benthsie in climbing to GU
bedroom windows. Leaning from tn
latter, we can possess ourselves {
handfuls, and we push the cluster rose
back insistently ere we can close on
windows.
! We do not go so far afield just nov
for we have each a garden of our ow
$ to tend; and how we dig, and rake, an
: hoe. What love. what devotion, "
put into our work!
And this is a page from our chill
hood-a simple childhood which kne
I no excitements beyond those provide
, by Dame Nature, and to which we r
cur as we meet with many a I" Do yo
remember" And all this is brought
t mind in vivid pictures by box I
9 daffy-down-dilies, despite the snoy
Q the dvant courier Of the advancing bli