156 NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 



few less are nothing to make account of; 

 but in January the sight of a single brown 

 creeper is sufficient to brighten the day, 

 and the twittering of half a dozen gold- 

 finches is like the music of angels. 



As a certain outspoken philosopher would 

 not visit some of his relatives because he 

 disliked to be alone, so do I in my jaunts 

 avoid the highway whenever it is possible, 

 even in midwinter. What so lonesome as 

 the presence of people with whom we must 

 not speak, or, worse yet, with whom we 

 must speak, but only about the weather 

 and like exciting topics ! As I have inti- 

 mated, however, it is usually the public 

 street or nothing with me during the cold 

 season. All the more grateful am I, there- 

 fore, to those familiar winter birds, some of 

 whom are sure to bid me good morning out 

 of the hedges and shade-trees as I go past. 

 Not unlikely a shrike sits motionless and 

 dumb upon a telegraph wire, or in contrary 

 mood whistles and chirrups industriously 

 from some tree-top. He is no angel, 'that is 

 plain enough ; but none the less I am glad 

 to meet him. If he fails of being lovable, 

 he is at least a study. It is wonderful how 



