February 



row rose on the air; but the ''white-throats," 

 whose time has not yet come, were busying 

 themselves silently. A pair of robins crossed 

 my path ; and the handsome cardinal, like a 

 presiding genius in the scene, was flitting from 

 tree to tree ; while the little chickadee was as 

 full of pranks as the irrepressible youngest child 

 in the family. 



These were the auspicious premonitions of 

 spring that I found on the 28th of February. 

 But the calendar is wrong in saying that spring 

 comes in with March. For three weeks longer 

 night triumphs over day. But such unwonted 

 throbs of life are not prompted by old Boreas. 

 Already the eastern sky shows a peculiar, per- 

 haps half-imagined glow, and there is a balmy 

 presentiment abroad. 



67 



