THE WOODS IN ERMINE. 205 



spreading dogwood sapling, with its thick mesh 

 of branches and twigs, each curve and angle fol- 

 lowed by its companion ridge of crystals, and the 

 longer I studied the picture the more I was chained 

 to the spot. Yes, it was one of God's beautiful 

 thoughts, wrought out in snow and stem. 



Although silent and snow-clad, the woods were 

 not tenantless ; no, indeed ; and it would have 

 been quite out of keeping with a bird-lover's 

 nature to take such a ramble through the woods 

 without noticing his plumed companions. Have 

 I not for years held most delightful converse with 

 the birds of this place, until each feathered denizen 

 has become a familiar friend ? 



Before reaching the woods I was saluted by a 

 bevy of tree sparrows hopping about on the rail 

 fence of the lane. How cunning they were ! It 

 would seem, almost, that snow is their native ele- 

 ment. They do not avoid it, as most other birds 

 do, but seem to revel in it. When I flushed them 

 they darted to the top rails, plunging fearlessly 

 into the downy snow up to their little bodies, and 

 standing there with up-stretched necks looking at 

 the queer pedestrian stalking along in his tall 

 rubber boots. Did not their dainty feet get 

 cold? When I inquired about this from one of 



