2 



The poet does not speak of the persistent stems of the wood 

 flowers, which stand erect and hold np tlie snow, but yon notice 

 them. Pei'haps you find out wliat pai-t of the plant is left to which 

 the snow can cling. 



As yon walk on, past the spruces, which seem to hold their snowy 

 burden lovingly, and past the indifferent pines, from which the soft 

 covering is already beginning to fall, yon notice that you are not 

 tlie first traveler in the quiet, white-clad woods. Burroughs says : 

 " The snow is a great tell-tale and blabs as effectually as it obliter- 

 ates. I go into the woods and know all that has happened. 1 

 cross the fields and if only a mouse has visited her neighbor, the 

 fact is chronicled." You find that is true. Here, the little tracks 

 in sets of four give a clue to Mollie Cottontail's private affairs. 

 There, underneath the oaks, the wild mice have been having a frolic. 

 Their going and coming have been plainly marked. Your interest 

 is awakened at once. You follow the foot-prints of these little wild 

 creatures of the woods. Where were they scampering before you 

 were up this bright morning ? 



* * -Sf 



The note of a chick-a-dee reaches your ear. This reminds you 

 that the winter birds have not been very noisy to-day. A few are 

 snuggled close together among the branches of the evergreens, but 

 chick-a-dee is on the wing. Dear little bird ! It is indeed " a cold 

 day " when its cheery song is not heard. You do not wonder that 

 llezekiah Butterworth said : 



" I love the high heart of the osprey, 



The meek heart of the thrush below, 

 The heart of the lark in the meadow, 



And the snowbird's heart in the snow; 

 But dearer to me, 

 Chick-a-dee ! Chick-a-dee ! 



Is that true little heart in the snow. * 



453 



