Footprints on the Snow. 19 



her name. There goes a squirrel scampering over the 

 snow in full retreat to its fastness in the fir-trees that 

 cluster about the old British earthworks on the crest 

 of the hill. Many a dinner he and his clan have made 

 among the cones, as the gnawed fragments that already 

 strew the snow remain to testify. 



A flock of starlings rise from the farther side of the 

 field as the squirrel races past. Against the white 

 background the plumage of the birds has quite a 

 dingy effect, that seems to harmonize with their de- 

 jected look. 



Days like these tell hard upon the children of the air. 

 Deep snow means starvation to thousands, and of all 

 the imprints made by hungry foragers none are so 

 frequent as those left by industrious birds. Here have 

 passed a party of tits, whose busy feet have cleared the 

 snow from the ground in hope of chance provision 

 underneath. Silent are they these hard days. Even 

 the thrush is a-cold, and has little heart for the noble 

 minstrelsy that of late has charmed our ears. No- 

 thing can deter the robin, he is singing still ; and high 

 up in the blue heaven there is even now the music of 

 a lark. Here, too, among a very maze of light feet, 

 you may read how he has been walking on the snow. 

 His long hind-claw points him plainly out among the 

 common crowd of finch and bunting. 



Here a ringdove has alighted ; you will know him 

 by the rounded pressure of his cushioned feet. 



The rooks have left the print of their great claws all 



