brook and rill is swelled to a large stream; and the ice is swept away with great violence from the rivers. It is from this peculiarity that this month of thaws is by the country-people called by the expressive name of " February fill-dike."

Muttering, the winds at eve, with blunted point,
Blow hollow-blustering from the south. Subdued,
The frost resolves into a trickling thaw.

Spotted the mountains shine; loose sleet descends,
And floods the country round. The rivers swell,
Of bonds impatient. Sudden from the hills,
O'er rocks and woods, in broad brown cataracts,
A thousand snow-fed torrents shoot at once;
And where they rush, the wide resounding plain
Is left one slimy waste.
THOMSON.

The frost, however, returns for a time; the fresh snow falls, often in great quantities; and thus the weather alternately changes during most part of this month. Its general character, however, is moist, raw, and disagreeable. "If February," remarks Leigh Hunt, "were not the precursor of Spring, it would be the least pleasant season of the year, November not excepted. The thaws now take place, and a clammy mixture of moisture and cold succeeds, which is the most disagreeable of winter sensations."

Various signs of returning Spring

songful Spring,

Whose looks are melody,

occur at different times in February.

ELLIOTT.

The wood

lark, one of the earliest and sweetest songsters, often begins his note at the very entrance of the month. Not long after, rooks begin to pair. The blackbird, thrush, and chaffinch then add to the early music of the groves. The marsh titmouse exerts his two harsh quaint notes, which some compare to the whetting of a saw; and the great black-headed titmouse distinguishes himself by three cheerful notes. The hedge-sparrow and yellow-hammer, accompanied sometimes by the sky-lark, also essay to sing. Ravens pair and build, a hardy race that live, as it were, by accident, being supported by the casual deaths of maimed or distempered cattle. The blue nuthatch may be also seen tapping briskly on the boughs, scaling off the encrusted lichens, and loudly chirping his delight as he feeds on the insects which he has thus dislodged.

Near the close of the month, partridges begin to couple and repair the ravages committed by

the sportsman on this devoted species during the Autumn and Winter.

Moles go to work in throwing up their hillocks as soon as the earth is softened, and make preparations for their summer campaign, constructing for themselves runs in various directions, to enable them to escape in case of danger; and also as a means of procuring their food. These runs communicate with one another, and unite at one point; at this centre the female establishes her headquarters, and forms a seperate habitation for her young, taking care that both shall be on a higher level than the runs, and, as nearly as possible, even with the ground, and any moisture that may penetrate is carried off by the runs. This dormitory, if it may be so styled, is generally placed at the foot of a wall or near a hedge or a tree, where it has less chance of being broken in. When so placed, no external embankment gives token of its presence; but when the soil is light, a large heap of earth is generally thrown over it. Being susceptible of the slightest noise or vibration of the earth, the mole, in case of surprise, at once betakes itself to its safety runs. Le Court, a French naturalist, records some very curious ex

periments as to the sight of moles, as well as to the speed at which they can travel along these underground galleries. They are very voracious, and die of hunger if kept without food for twelve hours.

Many plants emerge from under ground in February, but few flowers as yet adorn the fields or gardens, notwithstanding the boast of an old poet, that

The flowers which cold in prison kept,

Now laugh the frost to scorn.

RICHARD EDWARDS, 1523.

Snowdrops, "fair maids of February," as they are called, are generally fully opened from the beginning of the month, often peeping out from the midst of the snow. The hardy laurustinus puts forth its clusters of white blossoms, the alder-tree discloses its flower-buds, and the catkins of the hazel become very conspicuous in the hedges. Young leaves are budding on the gooseberry and currant bushes about the end of the month; and the winter aconite, with its-

Green leaf furling round its cup of gold,

CLARE.

gives life and animation to the otherwise dark and

desolate border.

Clare has some fine verses descriptive of the influence of the dawning Spring :

The snow has left the cottage top;

The thatch-moss grows in brighter green;
And eaves in quick succession drop,
Where grinning icicles have been;
Pit-patting with a pleasant noise,

In tubs set by the cottage door;
While ducks and geese, with happy joys,
Plunge in the yard pond brimming o'er.
The sun peeps through the window-pane;
Which children mark with laughing eye:
And in the wet street steal again,

To tell each other Spring is nigh :
Then, as young Hope the past recals,
In playing groups they often draw,
To build beside the sunny walls

Their spring-time huts of sticks or straw.

And oft in pleasure's dreams they hie
Round homesteads by the village side,
Scratching the hedgerow mosses by,
Where painted pooty-shells abide;
Mistaking oft the ivy spray

For leaves that come with budding Spring,
And wondering, in their search for play,
Why birds delay to build and sing.

The mavis-thrush with wild delight

Upon the orchard's dripping tree,