In Defence of Desolation. 173 



prince of cheerfulness has never changed its 

 tune, and no storm, not even midwinter's great- 

 est effort, ever shut out the sunshine in this wee 

 bird's heart It never admits the supremacy of 

 gloom, and finds beauty and content when we 

 are mourning over the desolation wrought by 

 frost. Not even the forest, now gloomier than 

 the field, is too dreary for him, and that assur- 

 ing Sweet here was not mockery, but a light- 

 giving song that lifted the cloud. 



There is no other bird that has the same 

 awakening power. To-day the cardinal, that has 

 for a time been silent and moping in the denser 

 underbrush, came from his hiding, echoed the 

 tit's emphatic words, and added many another. 

 " Clouds and bare branches do not ruin the 

 world" is the theme of his November song, and 

 what the hill-side lacks in sunshine is made good 

 by the brilliant glow of his crimson coat. He 

 is a pessimist indeed who can find the world 

 askew when such birds are singing. 



I had not passed through the garden before 

 I had seen and heard three singing birds, and 

 now at the stile I was greeted by the Carolina 

 wren. If possible, it was more desolate under 



