108 FRIENDS WORTH KNOWING. 
currence of night seems to them like being overtaken by 
the darkness which they thought they had left behind, but 
which they must again flee; that, therefore, they keep upon 
the wing until each morning’s light, supposing that they 
have thus again and again outstripped the pursuing gloom, 
until they reach a region of abundant food, and perhaps 
learn wisdom from its resident birds. I will confess that 
I do not myself put much faith in this theory, but a curi- 
ous and sustaining fact is, that the northward migration, 
in spring, is mostly accomplished by day-journeys instead 
of at night. 
Whatever the motive, no sooner has the crowd of au- 
tumnal migrants, with rustling wings and faint voices, swept 
through our woods—slowly during the long, mellow Octo- 
ber days, when the earth seems to stand still, and the sea- 
sons to be in equipoise; swiftly when the first blast of No- 
vember sends them skurrying onward with the deadened 
leaves—than their places are taken by the brave little fel- 
lows whose fame I celebrate. 
Taking my way to the woods some bright, still morn- 
ing in January, when the snow is crisp and the ice in the 
swamps firm, I shall find the sombre fields full of a life of 
their own well worth my while to see, even if the exhila- 
vation of the walk does not prove reward enough. Here 
