By the way, when I see such an array of berries used by the pretty decorators, I am disposed to wonder what the birds think of it. Don't the thrushes, blackbirds, sparrows, and robins miss those stolen berries? They are their especial resource in times when the frost is so hard that the earth-worm declines to come to the surface to be eaten. I hope the young ladies who 'skyugle' the hips and haws for ecclesiastical purposes, will not forget to throw out some crumbs for the redbreasts and sparrows. All through the day, O happy thrush! I hear thy music's torrent gush; Then comes the blackbird's mellow flute, And merrily when both are mute The robin sings: But when the blue turns golden-pale, Hist! there's a strange impassioned tale Told by the Daulian nightingale With dusky wings. Omagic music, linger still! Echo, from the furze-clad hill, Tosses back with semblance fine The dreamy ecstasy divine, And ether rings: But lo! through windows open wide Comes lovelier sound than aught beside My lady sings. March 17, 1870. THE seasons have been out of order ever since last April. Perhaps the coming month will restore the proper order of things. As yet the year is flowerless. Perdita prates prettily of snow. 'Daffodils That come before the swallow dares, and take This March sees no golden asphodel-even the violets scarcely struggle into life through the The snow-storm of last Sunday morning was the real thing, no mere sprinkling of flakes for the breath of spring to blow away. The boys of the village where I spent that day were vigorously snowballing each other on their way to the Sunday-school. I was reminded of an event in my own boyhood. One day we schoolboys were having a tremendous snowball fight with some stout opponents; we were on the verge of discomfiture when I, being leader, ordered my forces to put a stone in the centre of snowball. We conquered. I got my every idea from that once-popular boy's book, 'Sand ford and Merton,' wherein it is, of course, men tioned with severe reprobation. The eccentric author of that work, Day, who educated two young ladies (sisters), one after the other, to marry him, and was successively refused by both, would have been shocked indeed if he could have known how his prohibition became a suggestion. Such things do occur. an Pigeon-shooting has always seemed to me uninteresting and, indeed, disgusting amusement: I use the word 'amusement,' assuming that the a in amuse is privative. Certainly it must horrify the Muses to see the birds of Aphrodité mangled with shot. However, this and kindred sports seem to fascinate some people. The other day I picked up a halfpenny daily paper published in Brighton, and found an account of a 'sparrow shoot,' which (says the reporter) not only secured some of our best shots as subscribers, but brought some well-known knights of the trigger from a distance-amongst them Mr. Tester, of Balcombe, who, singular to relate, is still a keen sportsman, though he has lost both hands in the pursuit of his favourite pastime, having had them blown off at the wrist on separate occasions. He has a mechanical rest upon the forepart of his left arm, upon which he poises his gun, and pulls the trigger by using the stump of his right arm.' Witherington, immortalised in Chevy Chase' as having had both his legs cut off, and fighting on his stumps, was a fine fellow in his time; but I cannot feel any enthusiasm about this modern hero, who has sacrificed both his hands to pigeon and sparrow shooting. Let us hope they were fit for nothing better. By-the-way, how the brilliant eloquence of provincial journalism appears in that most appropriate phrase knights of the trigger!' There can be no question that a century hence education will be easier, and a wider course will therefore be possible, by the introduction of reforms of which at present only a few people are talking. In notation, with all its varieties of money, measure, and weight, either a decimal or duodecimal system (the |