BY MRS. NANCY T. MUNROE.

It is spring,—a backward spring, it is true, for now it is the first week in May, and not a flower to be seen except the yellow dandelion, not a blossom even on a cherry tree; nothing is green but the grass, and that—yes, that is very green, especially this piece before my window; it seems a relief to look upon it.

Poor May-day revellers! May-day this year was pleasant; that is, the sun shone, the sky was blue, and the grass was green, in spots at least; but the cold north wind was blowing, and one needed to be told it was the first of May.

The sun was higher than usual on such occasions, when the children came upon our hill;—yet they did come with wreaths and May-poles, but, ah! the flowers were artificial. Some of the children had on sun-bonnets and thin shawls; they should have worn hoods and cloaks, and then they might have been comfortable. But it takes a great deal to discourage children from going "Maying."

Our hill is a famous place for children on May-day, for it is green and pleasant; it is glorious to run down its sides, and pleasant to sit on its banks, which once were forts, and behind which, in less peaceful days, lurked soldiers with weapons of war. Ah, those children were a pleasant sight, and as I heard their glad laughter, and saw them chase each other down those green banks, I said, Peace is better than war.

"Please, ma'am, will you tell me what time it is?" said a little girl, coming forward from one group of children.

"Quarter of nine," was the reply.

"I didn't think it was so late; did you?" said she, turning to her companions. They had been out perhaps two hours, and thought it was most noon, and back they went to their sports.

Soon I heard a sound of weeping. I went to the door, where stood a group of children around the pump; one poor shivering child, looking blue and cold, was having her hands and face washed by another, with water cold from the pump, the tears streaming down her cheeks, and she sobbing piteously.

"What is the matter, little girl?"

"Oh," said the one who was performing the washing operation, "she fell from the top of the hill to the bottom, and made her nose bleed and hurt her dreadfully."

The poor child still sobbed and shivered. We carried her in, set her down before a hot coal fire, and tried to warm her red hands. Her little companions came and stood beside her, and told her not to cry; but, oh! she was so cold, and "the tops of her fingers did ache so!"

And this was going a Maying! But yet, next year, these very girls, I doubt not, will start with just as buoyant hearts for May-day sports, forgetful of the fall, the cold, and all inconveniences. Ah, childhood's hopeful heart is a blessed thing!

I well remember now a May-day of by-gone years. Then we had a queen, a tent, and a table set with numberless delicacies. We had rare sport that day. The weather was not as cold as the day of which I have been speaking; we had a few real flowers, and some hardy girls even appeared in white dresses. The forenoon passed pleasantly; numerous visitors thronged to see us, and we were the happiest of all May-day revellers. But all pleasure must have an end. Soon word came that we must surrender the sails of our tent, for the owner had need thereof. This caused a general strike, and, in the confusion which ensued, a boy had the misfortune to sit or fall upon the queen's straw bonnet, which had been laid aside for her flowery crown. It was literally smashed, unfit for further use. "Ah what will mother say?" was all the disappointed queen could say. Some few laughed at the queer, misshapen thing, but more looked on with sad countenances, for it was the queen's best bonnet.

We separated, tired, and, it may be, a little out of humor; but yet, a few days made everything bright again; we remembered the pleasure with pleasure, and thought of the disappointments only to laugh over them.

And that bent, spoiled bonnet! When the ex-queen appeared in a fine new one, with gay ribbons, many looked on, and almost wished that they had been so fortunate as to have had their bonnets spoiled.

As I look back, other May-days throng upon my mind. The memories of some of these are sad, yea, very sad! One was the birth-day of a little one who now rests beneath the green sod. And well do I remember another bright May morning, when I wandered out over the hill, holding the hand of a little fair-haired child within my own. Her tiny basket was filled with flowers the children had given her, and her bright, sunny face was radiant with smiles. That was her first May-day walk, and much did the little being enjoy it.

It was her last! Ere the spring breezes came again, she lay within her little shroud. The snows of winter fell silently upon her little grave, by the side of him who had gone before, and, ere another May-day, the sod was green above them.

These are the memories that come over me when I look out upon the revellers; yet just as well do I love to see them at their sports, and I can look upon their light, graceful forms, and hear their merry laughter; and, though my heart goes to the grave-yard and mine eyes rest upon the spot, yet I can smile upon the gay, living creatures before me, for I know that childhood is a glad and joyous thing, and that these beings are the light and joy of some homes, and I pray that these homes may be never darkened by Death's shadow crossing the threshold.

These my May-day reveries have begun lightly, and ended, as May-days themselves have done, in sad thoughts. But sad thoughts and life's troubles are, or ought to be, the heart's discipline. For this purpose do they come to us, and we should go forth from them purer and better.