“OH," says some little boy, "I know why you put Fill-dyke to February; it is because there is so much rain in this month." Yes; it is a cold, dreary month, and there are "black frosts" and a few "white frosts," and the thaws are colder than either. In the great City of London, and in all large towns, there is little else but rain and sleet and mud, and nearly all little boys and girls often wish spring and summer would come again. But many of my young readers live in the country, and dreary as the month is, let us see if we cannot find at least a little pleasure in watching the movements of nature, of the beasts and birds and insects-the plants, flowers, and animals.
Towards the end of this month, except the winter is very late, everything that can run or fly begins to be full of activity, and the plants even begin to peep forth, as if to prepare for the long, bright, warm days of May and June. Now you will soon discover, when walking in the fields and woods and on fine sunny mornings, that the mice and squirrels, and other small animals that creep away into the ground and holes of trees, and fall into a long sleep when winter first comes in, have begun to wake up and to frisk about, as much as to say how glad they are the winter is coming to a close. And you have all seen the long lines of fresh earth thrown up in the meadows, especially by the side of trees and dry banks; and here and there you will find little heaps of fine mold, fresh and beautiful. What can they mean? If you were to dig under them you would find the little moles wide awake and busy at work, preparing snug nests for their little ones. The bat, too, will now be seen to flit about in the evening, snapping up any little insect; and the owl, that funny-faced bird, will be heard making his queer hooting noise; and if several very sunny days should come together, on some warm bank you might even see a snake curled up, staring at you with his sharp bright eyes, and with a hiss and shooting out his tongue, the moment he sees you, off he glides into his hole again.
How beautiful it is to watch all these movements, and to look into the rippling streams, and see even the tiny fish begin to glide about as though they, too, had found out that winter was soon to pass away, and the merry sunbeams were about to sparkle on the waters, and make all things dance with joy.
But it is amongst our little friends the birds that we especially see fresh activity and life. Swarms of last year's young ones fly about, and God Himself teaches them the time has come to find their mates and to think of bringing up families of their own. It is then, on some morning, warmer than usual,
"Up springs the lark,
Shrill-voiced and loud, the messenger of morn
Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings
Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts
Calls forth the tuneful nations.”
And the loud-toned thrush, with his long and varied notes, may now too be heard, mounted to the very tip-top branch of some still bare tree. What varied beauties, and how much instruction can my little country friends gather up, if you are careful observers, even in dreary February, of all these movements. Who has not watched the robin and the wren and the woodcock-the hedge sparrow, the linnet, and many others, as they seem to lure us to the fields, and gladden us with their sweet varied melody? Plants, birds, fishes, and trees, all tell us that the old and never-failing promise of God is again about to be fulfilled- that after dreary, dark, cold winter, spring time, with all its beauty, is about to come again.
Especially watch your little friends as tenderly they make love one to another. How winning are their little ways! and as a poet so beautifully says:
"'Tis love creates their melody, and all
This waste of music is the voice of love:
That even to birds and beasts the tender arts
Of pleasing teaches. Hence the glossy kind
Try every winning way inventive love
Can dictate, and in courtship to their mates
Pour forth their little souls.”
What a lesson for young and old! Is it always our greatest delight to please all around us?
But music is not all; there is real hard work. How busy they all become building their nests-hurrying about carrying off long straws, feathers, bits of wool plucked from the backs of sheep, and anything soft, with which to make their nests soft end warm The beautiful buds, too, now break forth; and the pretty snowdrops, and bright crocuses, and the daffodils begin to peep out; and, especially if the spring be early, the thick clusters of the primrose are seen on every sunny bank.
One more thought and we must say good-bye till March's rough winds begin to blow. The farmer now becomes most busy; he cuts dawn his hedges, lays his manure on the ground, and as soon as the frost permits, at once he begins to plow up his ground and cast in his seed. But generally this kind of work comes more into March than February.
How can we think of all these beautiful things without remembering Him who has made them all. Dear little ones, think of it, God knows every bud that breaks forth; He feeds every bird that sings, and teaches every one to build its nest.
Some may tell you it is nature that teaches them all these things. Believe them not. It is God Himself-the same loving God that gave His Son the Lord Jesus to die for us poor sinners-that makes and feeds and teaches every one.