AT PEEP OF DAY 



these qualifications serve to make it the most de- 

 sirable of halting-places. The little junco couple 

 appear rarely at the table d'hote nowadays, but 

 I come upon them frequently in this forest-corner. 

 They are no doubt influenced by the shyness of 

 nesting-time, and in this shelter they probably 

 find many of the conditions to which they are ac- 

 customed in summer sites of northern lands. A 

 pair of white-crowned sparrows have remained 

 with us, but all their friendly little fellows, as 

 well as their genial white-throated cousins, have 

 left for the north. It was when this month was 

 very young that I last heard the white-throat's 

 sweet plaintive whistle. It seemed to say, fare- 

 well till the snows, till the snows, till the 

 snows. 



This little bird's note always conjures up for 

 me a strange, sweet picture. I see a great stretch 

 of rolling prairie upon which the shades of even- 

 ing are gently falling. A clear little stream 

 ripples and dances over a pebbly bed, and toward 

 this stream, cropping the long dewy grass as she 

 goes, a tired horse slowly makes her way. She 

 is riderless and free from harness trammels. She 

 may wander far over the grassy stretches during 

 the cool night hours, but her quick ear will catch 



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