THE VOICES OF THE SEASONS 259 



the woods and abide near the habitations of men, 

 each with well-known note making one aware of 

 his presence. With the snow come great flocks of 

 snow buntings, late familiars of the Esquimau and 

 Lap, the white bear and the reindeer, and all the 

 animate and inanimate savagery of the frozen 

 north. Their creaking twitter reminds one of 

 the creak and tinkle of moving ice, their voice a 

 voice of winter, unmistakable though faint. 



There are winter days, or hours in winter days, 

 when one's ears might make him believe that night 

 was brooding over the earth, so hushed are all 

 the voices of nature in a silence deeper than per- 

 vades even any night of spring, summer, or fall, for 

 the silence of such a night will now and then be 

 broken by insect, reptile, or nocturnal bird, or 

 nightly prowling beast, or be emphasized by the 

 low murmur of a distant stream. But now, not a 

 bird note nor stir of withered leaf, nor smothered 

 plaint of ice-bound brook, no sound of anything, 

 animate or inanimate, disturbs the deathlike 

 quietude which as unequivocally if not as im- 

 periously, as his voices, proclaim the absolute 

 sovereignty of winter. The sullen roar of the 

 winds in leafless woods, the hiss of driving snow, 

 the crack and shiver of ice may be heard in early 

 spring and late fall, but this dead stillness is a sole 

 prerogative of the stern king's reign. 



When an unseasonable rain falls on the snow, 



