March came in like a lion, and, true to its proverbial reputation, it is going out like a lamb. Nature is waking from her long winter sleep, and is beginning to clothe herself anew. The hawthorn hedgerows, which only three weeks ago were hidden in piled-up wreaths of drifted snow, are covered now with a blush of green, and already in their bielded clefts the sparrows and yellow-yoits are preparing to build for themselves 'an house wherein to dwell.' There is a kindly warmth in the sun's rays as they lie on the upturned brown fields, and a soft genial breath is stealing through the woods and lingering lovingly round the ash and the chestnut, those early risers in the first dawn of spring. What a boldness and assertiveness there is in the big black bud of the ash, and how promising is the bulging pink-brown bud of the chestnut! To those who have eyes to see and ears to hear, how wonderful is the story they tell! If I were a preacher of God's gospel, I question if I could confine the selection of my texts to the literal words from His holy book. Of late I have been lying much in Nature's lap; I have listened with greedy, receptive ears to her song and story; I have felt the throbbing of her great mother heart, and learned in her workings many of the wonderful ways of her great Controller. And I am leaving her knee, creeping out of God's own sanctuary, humbled and chastened, yet gladdened and relieved withal, to think that into the city life, which I must soon re-enter, I am carrying with me that heaven-sent faculty of finding 'tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.' And these lanes and solitary bypaths which have been my schoolroom are becoming daily more interesting, more insistent in their appeal. They are now providing something fresh and pleasing every day. I must walk slowly and quietly, so that I may see and hear every titbit of their store. A country walk at the rate of four miles an hour is very invigorating, to those in good health very pleasurable; but such is not possible on my byway at this season of the year, except to the Philistines. Even Bang and Jip do not exceed the half-mile limit; and as for myself--well, Dr Grierson has oftener than once accompanied me down the Gillfoot road, and I know he doesn't gauge the progress of my recovery by my rate of locomotion. No; if I must see and hear aright I have to walk slowly, and when the mavis is singing at close o' day I must halt altogether if I would listen as I ought. For many mornings past a blackbird from the top of the apple-tree in our garden has been challenging Tom Jardine to a trial of song; and, much as I love to lie and listen to my neighbour's pure tenor voice in 'The Lea Rig' or 'Flow gently, sweet Afton,' I have not been sorry when, as if acknowledging defeat, he has stopped to hearken to his feathered rival in the old apple-tree.