156 Happy Goldfinches. 



apparently examines one-half of the trunk, though, 

 probably, his eyes, accustomed to the work, see 

 farther than we may imagine. The orchard is never 

 long without a tree-climber : it seems a favorite re- 

 sort of these birds. The}* have a habit of rushing 

 quickly a little way up ; then pausing, and again 

 creeping swiftl}' another foot, or so, and are so 

 absorbed in their pursuit that 'they are easily ap- 

 proached and observed. 



Who can stay indoors when the goldfinches are 

 busy among the bloom on the apple trees? A flood 

 of sunshine falling through a roof of rosy pink and 

 delicate white blossom overhead ; underneath, grass 

 deeply green with the vigor of spring, dotted with 

 yellow buttercups, and strewn with bloom shaken by 

 the wind from the trees : is not this better than for- 

 mal-patterned carpets, and the white flat ceilings that 

 weigh so heavily upon the sight? Listen how happy 

 the goldfinches are in the orchard. Summer after 

 summer they build in the same trees bushy-headed 

 codlings ; generation after generation has been born 

 there and gone forth to enjo} 7 in turn the pleasures 

 of the field. 



A year nay, a single summer must be a long 

 time in their chronology, for they are so very, very 

 busy : a bright sunshiny day must be like a month to 

 them. Now coquetting, now splashing at the sandy 

 edge of a shallow streamlet till the golden feathers 

 glisten from the water and the red topknot shines, 

 away again along the hedgerow searching for seeds, 

 singing all the while, and the tiny heart beating so 

 rapidly as to compress twice as many beats of emo- 

 tion into the minute as our sluggish organizations 



