TENANTS OF A SEASON. 



It was the season when through all the land 

 The merle and mavis build.' 



C LOWLY, in 



the morning of the 

 year, the hard hand of winter relaxes f 

 from the sleeping land. The purple 

 buds are thick on every tree. In the 

 copses, the woodbine and the briar 

 are fretted with tufts of dainty foliage. The white 

 clusters of the sloe cling to bare black stems like the 

 last trace of lingering winter. 



Although there is but scanty cover yet in wood and 

 hedgerow, the birds even now, in quiet nooks and un- 

 frequented corners, are beginning to build. 



I 



