JANUARY 13 



tell of their joys and sorrows, and speak with- 

 out boasting of humble duties faithfully per- 

 formed. Briars and brambles send messages 

 by a code far older than Morse's, and in the 

 mighty race of the cone bearers, fugues and 

 chorales, concertos and symphonies are for ever 

 sounding, while to the Spirit of Winter the 

 whole vast orchestra ministers. 



For January, as for all the months of the 

 year, I should like to plant a seed garden. It 

 would be hedged in by a thicket of black- 

 berries, over whose strong lattices the Virgin's 

 bower would weave a cloudy thatch. Chick- 

 adees always know where to find the feathery 

 grey seed clusters, and as I should listen to 

 their chatter over their breakfast I should look 

 always in vain among the smoky puffs of 

 seeding for a single spray which lacked one 

 line of that grace which is the birthright of 

 the clematis. Cat - briars would climb the 

 thorn-trees which would grow on the outer 

 boundaries of the plot, since no berries can 

 be handsomer by contrast with the scarlet 

 haws than are the heavy blue-black clusters 

 of their fruits. I may not call the bitter- 

 sweet a weed, yet it shares with weeds the 



