2O2 Clear Skies and Cloudy. 



whole bush like a ruddy flame that warms and 

 lights the woodside glen, and here is moss as 

 green as any sunny grass-plot of a May morn- 

 ing ; here, too, is Prince's pine and pipsissewa, 

 and not a brown leaf in the woodland path but 

 covers some fresh and frost-defying growth. 

 Even in the open fields, tempest-swept and 

 bleak under a cloudy sky, there is modest 

 mullein, velvety and bright, that looks up at 

 you like a winsome girl wrapped in her winter 

 furs. We start out on a Christmas walk, think- 

 ing we will have to hunt for cheer, and find 

 rather that our search must be for the truly 

 desolate ; that is, if we want to nourish our 

 pessimism among the wrecks and ruins of the 

 dead summer ; and at every turn in our path, 

 it may be, we will be urged to go yet farther 

 afield by this good genius of a winter's day, 

 the wren, that will call, when you least expect it, 

 Look here, look here, look here ! This is not 

 silly fancy, nor overstraining of a wild bird's 

 note to make it suit our whim. The Carolina 

 wren has found the secret of a sweet content 

 and would share it with the world. 



Do not ask where this strange bird finds a 



