V. 



OUR WINTER BIRDS. 



NOT often in the genial days of early and late summer, 

 or even in the torrid heat of its middle months, do we re- 

 call winter with pleasure, or wish ourselves surrounded by 

 its scenes; while, on the contrary, the dark hours of the 

 long winter evenings are often enlivened with reminiscences 

 of balmy weather, the fireplace is adorned with bouquets 

 of dried flowers, and every indication of returning spring is 

 eagerly welcomed. Nothing is more precious to the eye, 

 weary of the desolation which snow and ice bring to the 

 landscape, than the winter birds, whose bright forms alone 

 diversify the bare and colorless world, and whose cheery 

 notes alone break the stillness and apparent immobility of 

 Nature. They always carry a bit of the June sunshine 

 about with them, and dropping it from their wings, like 

 seed, wherever they flit, seem thus to preserve the season 

 through the ravages of winter, to which all else succumbs. 

 Some words about them may, therefore, help to keep the 



