boy as when you first became acquainted
with him. He was as merry, as playful, as good-humored, as light of
foot and of spirits, and equally a favorite with the little folks, as
he had always been. This expedition up the mountain was entirely of
his contrivance. All the way up the steep ascent, he had encouraged
the elder children with his cheerful voice; and when Dandelion,
Cowslip, and Squash-Blossom grew weary, he had lugged them along,
alternately, on his back. In this manner, they had passed through the
orchards and pastures on the lower part of the hill, and had reached
the wood, which extends thence towards its bare summit.

The month of May, thus far, had been more amiable than it often is,
and this was as sweet and genial a day as the heart of man or child
could wish. In their progress up the hill, the small people had found
enough of violets, blue and white, and some that were as golden as if
they had the touch of Midas on them. That sociablest of flowers, the
little Houstonia, was very abundant. It is a flower that never lives
alone, but which loves its own kind, and is always fond of dwelling
with a great many friends and relatives around it. Sometimes you see a
family of them, covering a space no bigger than the palm of your hand;
and sometimes a large community, whitening a whole tract of pasture,
and all keeping one another in cheerful heart and life.

Within the verge of the wood there were columbines, looking more pale
than red, because they were so modest, and had thought proper to
seclude themselves too anxiously from the sun. There were wild
geraniums, too, and a thousand white blossoms of the strawberry. The
trailing arbutus was not yet quite out of bloom; but it hid its
precious flowers under the last year's withered forest-leaves, as
carefully as a mother-bird hides its little young ones. It knew, I
suppose, how beautiful and sweet-scented they were. So cunning was
their concealment, that the children sometimes smelt the delicate
richness of their perfume before they knew whence it proceeded.

Amid so much new life, it was strange and truly pitiful to behold,
here and there, in the fields and pastures, the hoary periwigs of
dandelions that had already gone to seed. They had done with summer
before the summer came. Within those small globes of winged seeds it
was autumn now!

Well, but we must not waste our valuable pages with any more talk
about the spring-time and wild flowers. There is some