SPRING 



arriving, joined in the investigation. 

 The Neighbour did not stir, and they 

 came down within thirty feet of where 

 he sat. Farther than this they would 

 not come, but rested there to observe 

 with outstretched necks and many side 

 glances every movement of this stran- 

 ger. For a space of ten minutes thus 

 they watched, satisfying their abund- 

 ant curiosity and allaying their vigil- 

 ant alarms, then silently took them- 

 selves off — passing the whole thing up, 

 as it were. 



Up the creek a piece where the old 

 fence jogs its way through a thicket of 

 young beeches, he met an old friend, 

 but a stranger to the Beech Woods, 

 being only a transient visitor on his 

 way to the far North. There he may be 

 heard beside the trail and out on bare 

 bruMe singing his sweet, refreshing 

 song. The little white-throat, the friend 

 of the prospector and the packman, 

 cheering their lonely vigil with his song 

 as they have translated it, "Hard times, 

 Canada! Canada! Canada!" 



Now another sound came from a 

 knoll just beyond the thicket. Who 

 31 



