. Louisiana special days. Programs and suggestions for observing the same. Session 1909-10. WHITE OAK WOODS. The woods at first convey the impression of profound re-pose, and yet, if you watch their ways with open ear, youfind the life which is in them is restless and nervous as that ofa woman; the little twigs are crossing and twining and sepa-rating like slender fingers that can not be still, the stray leafis to be flattened into its place like a truant curl; the limbssway and twist, impatient of their constrained attitude; andthe rounded masses of foliage swell upward and subside
. Louisiana special days. Programs and suggestions for observing the same. Session 1909-10. WHITE OAK WOODS. The woods at first convey the impression of profound re-pose, and yet, if you watch their ways with open ear, youfind the life which is in them is restless and nervous as that ofa woman; the little twigs are crossing and twining and sepa-rating like slender fingers that can not be still, the stray leafis to be flattened into its place like a truant curl; the limbssway and twist, impatient of their constrained attitude; andthe rounded masses of foliage swell upward and subside fromtime to time with long soft sighs, and, it may be, the falling ofa few rain-drops which had lain long hidden among the deepershadows.—Oliver Wendell Holmes. THE SPRING TIME. I love to trace the break of Spring step by step. I love eventhose long rain-storms, that sap the icy fortunes of the linger-ing winter—that melt the snows upon the hills, and swell themountain brooks. I love the gentle thaws that you can trace, (22). SATIN WALNUT, OR BLACK GUM. day by day, by the stained snow-banks, shrinking from thegrass; and by the quiet drip of the cottage eaves. I love tosearch out the sunny slopes under some northern shelter whenthe reflected sun does double duty to the earth, and when thefirst Hepaticas, or the faint blush of the Arbutus, in the midstof the bleak March atmosphere, will touch your heart, like ahope of Heaven in a field of graves. Later comes those soft,smoky days, when the patches of winter grain show greenunder the shelter of leafless woods, and the last snow driftsreduced to shrunken skeletons of ice, lie upon the slope ofnorthern hills, leaking away their life. Then the grass at yourdoor grows into the color of the sprouting grain, and the budsupon the lilacs swell and burst. The old elms throw downtheir thin dingy fingers, and color their spray with green; andthe brooks when you throw your worm or the minnow floatdown whole fleets of crimsoning blossoms o
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