142 



Bird-Land Echoes. 



tossed aside last August are beautiful when encased 

 in ciystal and reflecting the level rays of a midwinter 

 setting sun. Is not the earnest outpouring of a 

 happy bird's song as truly musical, as soul-stirring, 

 in January as in June? At all events, this music is 

 at our command, if we wish to enjoy it, and I, 

 knowing this, had my doubts about the old garden 



Red-bellied Nuthatch. 



White-bellied Nuthatch. 



being so desolate. I gave some commonplace reason 

 and went to the back door. As I supposed, frost 

 had wrought no such serious ravage as Aunt Peggy 

 would have had me believe. The box hedges were 

 darkly green ; there was woodbine with frozen but 

 unfaded leaves, and, without exaggeration, birds in 

 abundance. Just over the fence the blue-black 

 snow-birds were seed-hunting in an old pasture, and 



