MY WOODLAND INTIMATES 



at that gold-bordered rift in the grayness, where 

 the sun is attempting to peer out at our sombre 

 world. But he is withdrawing already; yet, 

 though the gray curtain hides him once more, the 

 veil is less heavy than it was; and now, as at all 

 times when the sky is visible, we may heighten 

 color effects the dullest and dimmest as well as 

 the most brilliant by looking upward from a 

 horizontal point of view. Even if we try the 

 well-known plan of leaning our heads as nearly 

 as possible on our own shoulders, all sorts of hith- 

 erto-unnoticed shades and tints will be revealed 

 to us. In nature's realm, as well as elsewhere, 

 there is gain in viewing things from different 

 standpoints. 



Here are some engaging little fellows on whose 

 regular autumn appearance we may safely rely. 

 They are juncos, or slate-colored snowbirds, and 

 they come with the intention of remaining until 

 spring. Do you not find their simple costume be- 

 witching? To me they have the appearance of 

 gentle Quakers who have yielded to worldly 

 suggestions to the extent of allowing their gar- 

 ments to be cut in the most elegant and modish 

 manner, all the while adhering strictly to ortho- 

 dox colors. That remonstrating little st-st is 

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