RAMBLE V. 

 THROUGH THE WOODS. 



OUR fair English woods are the chosen haunt of 

 many of the shyest and most interesting birds. 

 Within their shady depths at all seasons of the 

 year there is much taking place among our 

 feathered friends to instruct and amuse us. I 

 think of all places, woods are my favourite haunt. 

 I love seclusion and retirement, I revel in arboreal 

 solitude, ay, as much as these forest birds them- 

 selves. The curtain of greenery in summer, and 

 the network of bare twigs and branches in winter, 

 shut off from view all human works, and leave me 

 surrounded by the feathered creatures I love so 

 well, where, uninterrupted and alone, I may 

 commune with Nature's wondrous children to 

 my heart's content. No matter what the hour or 

 season, the woods are always attractive. Whether 

 gay with the smiles and the gladness of spring 

 and summer, or cloaked in the sobbing sadness of 

 autumnal decay and winter whiteness, shy birds 

 dwell within them, and live their happy lives 

 among the wild seclusion the arboreal depths afford. 

 No other district can compare favourably with the 

 woodlands in changeful beauty, in harmony of 

 colour, and in grace. 



