In April, spring is thoroughly established. The first crop of figs attains its full size. Grass makes a fine growth in low, moist situations, but elsewhere, - if perchance the deep, dry sand allows it to grow at all, it soon withers away. High winds, frequent showers, and sudden changes, characterize this month at the south as well as the north, though, of course, the range of temperature is much higher. The sun at mid-day becomes so warm that the traveler from the north begins to long for cooler weather.

From this rapid survey, it appears that there is much to interest a stranger in spring at the south. It is no indifferent thing to look for the first time upon the cypress waving high its plumes of delicate, larch-like foliage, or the stately magnolia, or the live oak, resembling, often, the largest elms of New England, and the branches of all these trees draped with the long, grey moss of these latitudes, from two to fifteen feet in length, and swaying in the wind; or the sago, palmetto, and date trees, indicating the neighborhood of the tropics. Nor does it lessen the interest with which one beholds these scenes to reflect that while he is surrounded by such beautiful verdure, by flowers, and birds, and summer air, his friends at the north are still shivering in the midst of snow and ice and dreary storms.

Turning now from spring at the south, to speak of the same season at the north, I need not apprise the reader that here a winter precedes the spring. He whose lot has been cast where snow storms prevail during five months of the year, where the mercury falls to 20° below zero, and where, as some one remarked near the close of a long winter, "thermometers give out, and have to be laid up for repairs," such an one, certainly, need not be told that we have a winter at the north.

But there is, at length, an end to winter even here. The first, though quite remote indication of returning spring is seen in the increasing length of the day. This is perceptible in February, and still more so in March. The sun takes daily a wider circuit through the heavens; and though winter still reigns, and rages too, there is a peculiar glow in the sky, especially at morning and evening, which tells of a more genial season approaching. Often, indeed, during the month of March, when the cold winds are at rest, the sun rapidly melts the snow from the south side of the roofs of houses, and the grass by the door step, in the same sheltered aspect, springs up fresh and green. Hens cackle more loudly, and chanticleer and the turkey cock brush up their plumes, and display them more proudly in the sun. If the fair weather continues several days in succession, the snow will disappear in patches from the fields, and cattle and sheep will roam about in the pastures to smell the fresh ground, and to search for the first blade of grass.

At such times, many persons, touched with the spring feeling, go about repeating Bryant's song to March -

"For thou to northern lands again

The glad and glorious son doth bring, And thou hast joined the gentle train, And wear'st the gentle name of Spring.

And in thy reign of blast and storm.

Smiles many a long, bright, tunny day, When the changed winds are soft and warm,

And heaven puts on the blue of May".

But often, before the song is finished, clouds darken the sun, wind, hail and snow beat upon the earth with redoubled fury. In the latter part of this month, however, milder days return. The snow gradually gives way before sun, wind and rain, and melts into the earth, or runs off into the swollen streams.

On some bright morning, the notes of "the first robin" are heard. His arrival produces a general gladness in every household. It is the return of an old friend, reminding us of pleasant days in the past, and bidding us hope for happy days to come. The Phoebe bird and blue bird follow in the train of the robin.* Their arrival is the signal with many gardeners for preparing hot-beds to forward early vegetables. About these days, wild pigeons are often seen, wheeling in large flocks through the air, sometimes taking a high flight, and at others passing so low as to come within reach of the sportsman's gun. Cold winds, hail-storms and flurries of snow are quite frequent still. And yet, in the midst of this unfavorable weather, some of the earliest garden flowers are peeping above ground. There is the Daphne mezereony in flower often while surrounded by snow; the crocus, said in poetry to be "the first gilt thing That wears the trembling breath of spring;" and the daffodil, to be followed ere long by the hyacinth, snow-drop, tulip and other plants, which come up successively, and make a cheerful spot in the otherwise desolate garden.

* A traveller in Booth America, speaking of (bo birds of his native land, says it to pleasent to notice that- into whatever strange countries they may have wandered during winter, and whatever strange tongues they may have heard, they nevertheless come back speaking English. Hark! "Phaebe! Phaeb !" plain enough. And by and by the Bob o' link, saying "Bob o' Lincoln," and the quail saying "Bob White." We have heard of one who always thought the robin said, "skillet! skillet! three legs to a skillet! two legs to a skillet!" A certain facetious doctor says the robins cry out to him as he passes along the road, "kill'em! cure'em! cure'em! physic! physic! physic!" And the frogs indulge in humorous, sarcastic ditties, in which one hears, "jug o' rum! jug o' rum! jug o' rurn!" While another responds, "Paddy got dhroonk, got dhroonk, 'oonk, 'nk!" (As Oulticator, Nov. 1847).

The last of this month and the early part of April, according as the season "opens,", farmers are occupied in making maple sugar. As the snow disappears and warm rains fall, the wheat fields revive, and take on a lively green. Fences are now repaired, and fields favorably situated are plowed. Frogs are heard, occasionally, at night-fall. By the middle of April, a few seeds are often sown, such as peas, beets and onions; and early potatoes are planted. Grass begins to look green by the road-side, and along water-courses, and in orchards. On the north and west sides of fences, and of hills with a northern aspect, snow banks still lie, little affected by the sun or frequent rains. During the last half of this month, whoever rambles in the woods, will find the lion leaf and trailing arbutus in blossom, and will notice that the elms and maples are beginning to bloom. The low willows by the side of streams, and the alders are showing signs of life. Upon a sunny day, butterflies occasionally appear, and soon the little white breasted swallow* is seen sailing about in the air, the pioneer of the martin and barn swallow. At intervals during this month, frequent and heavy rains fall, drenching the ground with water, and soaking out the last particle of frost.