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The Living Spring — below the tidal wave of winter. 



Fishing in Winter 



Mathilde Schlegel 



East Aurora, N. Y. 



When fierce Brother North Wind conies rampaging around 

 with his icy blasts straight from the Pole, all the little creatures 

 of the meadows and forests either make sure of their hoards 

 of nuts or seeds, or locate food supplies, — for this is the season of 

 high cost of living for them, even they do not escape that ; or perhaps 

 they go fast asleep for the whole winter, — which is by far the easiest 

 way out of the difficulty. We know who these sleepers are among 

 the big folk; Buster Bear, Johnny Chuck, Bobby Coon, and a 

 good part of the time, Whitefoot the D^er-mouse (but the finding 

 of Whitefoot hibernating is another story). 



To those who seek to have more than a superficial acquaintance 

 with Nature, who look beneath the surface, we find it is not alone 

 among these that Nature has her problems. As Jack Frost that 

 page-sprite to Brother North Wind trips along and draws his 

 fingers over everything, — the meadow grass, the trees and bids 



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