with its pendant white blossoms. There is a tree in Savoy, called there, the amelanchier, near of kin to this of ours. The poplar, or poppels as the country people call them, are already half-leaved. How rapid is the advance of spring at this moment of her joyous approach! And how beautiful are all the plants in their graceful growth, the humblest herb unfolding its every leaf in beauty, full of purpose and power!
Saw a little blue butterfly on the highway. Gathered a fine bunch of pink ground laurel, unusually large and fragrant, they have quite out-lasted the squirrel-cups, which are withered. Saw a fine maroon moose-flower—its three-leaved blossom as large as a tulip—the darkest and largest of our early spring flowers.
Saturday, 6th.—Warm, soft day. The birds are in an ecstasy. Goldfinches, orioles, and blue-birds enliven the budding trees with their fine voices and gay plumage; wrens and song-sparrows are hopping and singing about the shrubbery; robins and chipping-birds hardly move out of your way on the grass and gravel, and scores of swallows are twittering in the air, more active, more chatty than ever;—all busy, all happy, all at this season more or less musical. Birds who scarcely sing, have a peculiar cry, heard much more clearly and frequently at this season, than any other;—the twittering of the swallows, for instance, and the prolonged chirrup of the chipping-bird, so like that of the locust, when heard from the trees. The little creatures always enjoy a fine day extremely, but with more zest during this their honeymoon, than at any other season. Our summer company have now all arrived, or, rather, our runaways have come back; for it is pleasant to remember that these are really at home here, born and raised, as the Kentuckians say, in these groves, and now have
