guor of an April sun;—nor have you scarce noticed that a little bevy of those floating clouds had grouped together in a sombre company. But presently, you see across the fields, the dark grey streaks stretching like lines of mists, from the green bosom of the valley, to that spot of sky where the company of clouds is loitering; and with an easy shifting of the helm, the fleet of swimmers come drifting over you, and drop their burden into the dancing pools, and make the flowers glisten, and the eaves drip with their crystal bounty.
The cattle linger still, cropping the newcome grass; and childhood laughs joyously at the warm rain;—or under the cottage roof, catches with eager ear, the patter of its fall.
And with that patter on the roof,— so like to the patter of childish feet—my story of boyish dreams shall begin.
