142 



BIRD-LAND ECHOES. 



tossed aside last August are beautiful when encased 

 in crystal and reflecting the level rays of a midwinter 

 setting sun. Is not the earnest outpouring of a 

 happy bird's song as truly musical, as soul-stirring, 

 in January as in June ? At all events, this music is 

 at our command, if we wish to enjoy it, and I, 

 knowing this, had my doubts about the old garden 



Red-bellied Nuthatch. 



White-bellied Nuthatch. 



being so desolate. I gave some commonplace reason 

 and went to the back door. As I supposed, frost 

 had wrought no such serious ravage as Aunt Peggy 

 would have had me believe. The box hedges were 

 darkly green ; there was woodbine with frozen but 

 unfaded leaves, and, without exaggeration, birds in 

 abundance. Just over the fence the blue-black 

 snow-birds were seed-hunting in an old pasture, and 



