THE COMING OF THE BIRDS. 57 



by a spring, a thicket of evergreens, and a brush 

 fence, two fox sparrows popped into view for 

 a moment. Near them a grouse was found in 

 a pine grove. 



The eastern side of Prospect Hill holds in its 

 curve a spot of singular beauty. Behind a 

 veil of pine woods lies hidden a rocky amphi- 

 theatre, through which flows a sparkling stream 

 of spring water. Dozens of its tiny cascades 

 were framed in moss and ferns. Its worn 

 boulders were partially sheathed in ice, and in 

 many places beds of snow still rested upon its 

 banks and overhung the water. The background 

 of this picture was a steep wall of rock and earth 

 nearly fifty feet in height, overhung by tall 

 oaks, walnut and ash trees, and covered with 

 remnants of snow drifts, mossy boulders and 

 patches of last year's ferns nodding in the wind. 



Scrambling up this cliff, I found myself at 

 the summit of a iiill justly noted for its wide 

 and varied view. A vast and irregular city 

 seemed to reach from its southeastern foot to 

 the waters of Massachusetts Bay. Far away 

 to the southwest, two large towns could be seen 

 rearing their spires against the sky. They were 

 about in the direction of Westboro' and Milford. 

 The New Hampshire mountains showed to much 

 better advantage than from Arlington Heights, 

 and I could clearly identify the different sum- 



