MY WOODLAND INTIMATES 



Sometimes there passed us spruce young gal- 

 lants with their gayly dressed blondes; happy lit- 

 tle children in festival attire ; sedate, middle-aged 

 men and women, and even a few aged pilgrims. 

 Jaded steeds were urged to best endeavors, and 

 pedestrians stepped with a holiday gait, but at 

 sight of my fairy-like companion all paces 

 slackened and exclamations of wonder and de- 

 light greeted her on every side. 



But there were long stretches where we saw 

 neither houses nor people, and in the beautiful se- 

 clusion of these golden moments nature revealed 

 her very heart. Friendly little vesper-sparrows 

 looked wonderingly at us from rude fence-rail- 

 ings or flew from post to post in advance of us. 

 Goldfinches wended their wavy way through the 

 fields, and a few dear robins wished us good 

 cheer. Once a gay purple finch and his little 

 sparrowy wife came out from the shelter of an 

 elderberry bush, and a warbling vireo sang of a 

 snug, little basket home where his precious babies 

 had lodged, while from a beautiful little indigo 

 bunting's heart welled up a song as full of joy 

 and sunshine as was the glad summer day itself. 



But it was about midway in our walk, as I 

 rested on the hillside in the shade of a noble old 



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