118 The Turnpike Road. 



unseen cows meander with unsteady gait mid the birch and 

 cedar trees on the distant hill-side. A little bit of art adds 

 much to nature, and a great deal of nature enhances art. 

 The cow-bell would sound a discord on a city street. 



A thick patch of woods by the road-side has lately been 

 cleared away. It consisted mainly of cedars and gums, 

 and a most luxuriant growth of smilax. The wild honey- 

 suckle grew there, and among many other birds, a cardinal 

 bred every year in the tangle. In speaking of the bird the 

 female is generally forgotten, or if mentioned, it is said that 

 she is brown only. It is true she is brown, but a beautiful 

 warm brown, and then her bill is pink as if to make a 

 noticeable contrast. Once while sitting in a cedar tree in 

 a swamp, one lit close by, within two yards, and there was 

 a good opportunity to see what a pretty bird she was. 

 When the males, in their scarlet coats, hop about on the snow, 

 you are impressed with the sight, you are not apt to forget 

 those winter days, there seems to be something unnatural 

 in all this bright color in the otherwise sombre thickets 

 of January. 



While the woodmen were chopping the trees, a male 

 cardinal flew close about them, for the axe had sounded 

 so many days in his favorite haunt, that he became quite 

 bold. How surprised must be the brown thrushes, and the 

 many pairs of catbirds, that annually rear their young in 

 a tangle, when returning in hopeful Spring, they find the 

 ground cleared. There are many anxious twitterings then. 



But it is the all-consuming fire, and not the axe, that 

 causes the most damage among the trees ; it is the smoke 

 curling up between the hills, that brings a deeper sigh than 



