ds him, and say if he be not
as jealous as Othello? Nothing can pacify him but Mrs. Allen's notice
and a dole from her hand. See, she is calling to him and feeding him,
and now how he swells out his feathers, and flutters his wings, and
erects his glossy neck, and struts and crows and pecks, proudest and
happiest of bantams, the pet and glory of the poultry yard!

In the meantime my own pet May, who has all this while been peeping into
every hole, and penetrating every nook and winding of the dell, in hopes
to find another rabbit, has returned to my side, and is sliding her
snake-like head into my hand, at once to invite the caress which she
likes so well, and to intimate, with all due respect, that it is time to
go home. The setting sun gives the same warning; and in a moment we are
through the dell, the field, and the gate, past the farm and the mill,
and hanging over the bridge that crosses the Loddon river.

What a sunset! how golden! how beautiful! The sun just disappearing, and
the narrow liny clouds, which a few minutes ago lay like soft vapoury
streaks along the horizon, lighted up with a golden splendour that the
eye can scarcely endure, and those still softer clouds which floated
above them wreathing and curling into a thousand fantastic forms,
as thin and changeful as summer smoke, now defined and deepened into
grandeur, and edged with ineffable, insufferable light! Another minute
and the brilliant orb totally disappears, and the sky above grows every
moment more varied and more beautiful as the dazzling golden lines are
mixed with glowing red and gorgeous purple, dappled with small dark
specks, and mingled with such a blue as the egg of the hedge-sparrow. To
look up at that glorious sky, and then to see that magnificent picture
reflected in the clear and lovely Loddon water, is a pleasure never to
be described and never forgotten. My heart swells and my eyes fill as
I write of it, and think of the immeasurable majesty of nature, and the
unspeakable goodness of God, who has spread an enjoyment so pure, so
peaceful, and so intense before the meanest and the lowliest of His
creatures.

THE COWSLIP-BALL.

May 16th.--There are moments in life when, without any visible or
immediate cause, the spirits sink and fail, as it were, under the mere
pressure of existence: moments of unaccountable depression, when one
is weary of one's very thoughts, haunted by images that will not
depart--images many and various