Whatever might be the result of the sermon, the drive promised to do us good.  The tender young grass by the roadside, and the swelling buds of trees, gave forth delicious odors; a spring haze softened the outline of the mountains, and made them almost as beautiful as if clothed with foliage; robins, song-sparrows, and other birds were so tuneful that Mousie said she wished they might form the choir at the church.  Indeed, the glad spirit of Spring was abroad, and it found its way into our hearts.  We soon learned that it entered largely also into Dr. Lyman’s sermon.  We were not treated as strangers and intruders, but welcomed and shown to a pew in a way that made us feel at home.  I discovered that I, too, should be kept awake and given much to think about.  We remained until Sunday-school, which followed the service, was over, and then went home, feeling that life both here and hereafter was something to be thankful for.  After dinner, without even taking the precaution of locking the door, we all strolled down the lane and the steeply sloping meadow to our wood lot and the banks of the Moodna Creek.  My wife had never seen this portion of our place before, and she was delighted with its wild beauty and seclusion.  She shivered and turned a little pale, however, as she saw the stream, still high and swift, that had carried Bobsey away.

Junior joined us, and led the children to a sunny bank, from which soon came shouts of joy over the first wildflowers of the season.  I placed my wife on a rock, and we sat quietly for a time, inhaling the fresh woody odors, and listening to the murmurs of the creek and the song of the birds.  Then I asked:  “Isn’t this better than a city flat and a noisy street?  Are not these birds pleasanter neighbors than the Daggetts and the Ricketts?”

Her glad smile was more eloquent than words could have been.  Mousie came running to us, holding in her hand, which trembled from excitement, a little bunch of liverworts and anemones.  Tears of happiness actually stood in her eyes, and she could only falter, “O mamma! just look!” and then she hastened away to gather more.

“That child belongs to nature,” I said, “and would always be an exile in the city.  How greatly she has improved in health already!”

The air grew damp and chill early, and we soon returned to the house.  Monday was again fair, and found us absorbed in our busy life, each one having plenty to do.  When it was safe to uncover the raspberries, Merton and I had not lost a moment in the task.  At the time of which I write we put in stakes where they were missing, obtaining not a few of them from the wood lot.  We also made our second planting of potatoes and other hardy vegetables in the garden.  The plants in the kitchen window were thriving, and during mild, still days we carried them to a sheltered place without, that they might become inured to the open air.