Autumn scatters showers 

 of seeds of all kinds with 

 every breeze ; but the 

 meadows are full of know- 

 ing weeds that refuse to give 

 up their grist ; and though a few 

 grains are occasionally wrenched 

 from them, they still hold a gen- 

 erous share for the white days 

 when the hungry winter birds 

 will surely need them. 



It is very interesting to go 

 through a sloping or undulating 

 meadow after a snowfall, and es- 

 pecially after a snowfall that has 

 been followed by a wind. The 

 snow is peppered with meadow- 

 crumbs dislodged by the gale. 

 If by chance there should 

 be a glassy crust on the 

 snow, we may sample al- 

 most the entire grist of 

 the meadow, swept up 

 into windrows and gath- 

 ered into bins and pock- 

 ets. All the little hollows 

 and gullies and chinks 

 and crannies of the un- 

 even snow are full of the crumbs. And 

 what queer crumbs they are, too! Here 

 is a little wavy line, looking like brown 

 chaffy powder or fine sawdust, with occasional larger 

 grains intermixed. It follows along for quite a distance 



