WITH THE WINTER BIRDS. 



243 



plaint. The rugged oaks, with deeply wrinkled bark 

 and huge outstretching arms, laughed at the storm. 

 It was beneath them that I heard the first sound : 

 a mere creaking of branches, it is true, but it was as 

 if the trees were making merry. A slight swaying 

 of uplifted branches, and the flakes were scattered, 

 and little heaps that had gathered in the tree-tops 



Chickadee. 



came tumbling about me. Then a merry sound 

 indeed began ringing through the woods. Snow- 

 birds and chickadees came trooping by me, and with 

 boundless curiosity stopped and chirped and won- 

 dered. The storm had no terrors for them, and 

 never a thought of shelter entered their heads. I 

 clapped my hands, and the hollow sound sent them, 



