er. In earlier spring the river embraces it all
round, and converts it into an island. Rocks, with flakes of dry moss
covering them, peep out everywhere; and abundant columbines grow in the
interstices of these rocks, and wherever else the soil is scanty and
difficult enough to suit their fancy,--avoiding the smoother and better
sites, which they might just as well have chosen, close at hand. They
are earlier on this spot than anywhere else, and are therefore doubly
valuable, though not nearly so large, nor of so rich a scarlet and gold,
as some that we shall gather from the eastern slope of a hill, two or
three weeks hence. The promontory is exposed to all winds, and there
seems no reason why it should produce the earliest flowers, unless that
this is a peculiar race of columbines, which has the precious gift of
earlier birth assigned to them in lieu of rich beauty. This is the first
day of the present spring that I have found any quite blown; but last
year, I believe, they came considerably earlier. Here and there appeared
a blue violet, nestling close to the ground, pretty, but inconvenient to
gather and carry home, on account of its short stalk. Houstonias are
scattered about by handfuls. Anemones have been in bloom for several
days on the edge of the woods, but none ever grow on the Promontory of
Columbines.

The grass is a glad green in spots; but this verdure is very partial,
and over the general extent the old, withered stalks of last year's
grass are found to predominate. The verdure appears rich, between the
beholder and the sun; in the opposite direction, it is much less so. Old
mullein-stalks rise tall and desolate, and cling tenaciously to the soil
when we try to uproot them. The promontory is broken into two or three
heads. Its only shadow is from a moderately-sized elm, which, from year
to year, has flung down its dead branches, all within its circumference,
where they lie in various stages of decay. There are likewise rotten and
charred stumps of several other trees.

* * * * *

The fence of our avenue is covered with moss on the side fronting
towards the north, while the opposite side is quite free from it,--the
reason being, that there is never any sunshine on the north side to dry
the moisture caused by rains from the northeast. The moss is very
luxuriant, sprouting from the half-decayed wood, and clinging to it as
if partially incorporated therewith.

*