Chapter 12 No.12

Life hath its May, and is mirthful then:

The woods are vocal, and the flowers all odour;

Its very blast has mirth in't,-and the maidens,

The while they don their cloaks to screen their kirtles,

Laugh at the rain that wets them.

OLD PLAY.

Catherine was at the happy age of innocence and buoyancy of spirit, when, after the first mome