In Deep, Dark Woods. 261 



crows good company ; friends that meet me 

 half-way, and speak from their hearts ; no mere 

 mouthing of meaningless formalities. Then, as 

 if to shame poor, shivering humanity that all too 

 likely hugs the stove all day, a kinglet, almost 

 our smallest bird, may come and chirp so cheer- 

 fully that you are moved to whistle in reply. 

 Surely it is of some significance that shrews, 

 our smallest mammals, and kinglets and winter 

 wrens and the blessed chickadee, are as full of 

 fun in January, with the mercury at zero, as ever 

 a summer songster in the month of June. 



Summer or winter, my love of trees is un- 

 alterable, ineradicable. 



"The purple color of the murex so blends 

 in one body with wool that it can never be ex- 

 tracted from it ; not even if you should strive 

 to restore the wool to its whiteness with all the 

 waves of the sea ; not even if the whole ocean, 

 with all its floods, should be disposed to cleanse 

 it." 



