302 ANNALS OF BIRD LIFE, 



all the rugged roughness of the roads and hedges, 

 and softens the outlines of the hills. Beautiful 

 are the woodlands now, clad in foliage white and 

 fair ; blossoms once more deck the dead hemlocks 

 and the bare hawthorns blooms of brilliant snow. 

 The hedges are garlanded with fleecy masses ; 

 the long brambles, and briars, and withered bines 

 of the honeysuckle have all been transformed 

 into nets and ropes of snow ! Nothing yet has 

 sullied the surface ; no carts have lumbered over 

 the tracks by the hedge-sides ; the ploughshare 

 is half buried at the end of the furrow where it 

 was left when the frost came ; the cattle, sheep, 

 and horses are safe sheltered from the storm at 

 home, down yonder at the farmstead in the valley; 

 not even the keeper's tracks across the fields and 

 along the drives in the white woods have yet 

 disturbed the glittering canopy of snow. A 

 Robin calling in the laurels, and a Wren reel- 

 ing off its noisy song amongst the brambles, are 

 almost the only sounds that break the stillness of 

 this wintry death scene. Nothing seems stirring ; 

 yet there is abundant evidence written on the 

 snow-wreath that many creatures are abroad this 

 morning. 



Here, out on the open fields, a hare has 

 passed leisurely along ; the tracks show that 

 " puss " was in no hurry, though evidently be- 

 wildered, for her spoor is up and down in a very 

 undecided sort of manner. Along the wood- side 

 the rabbits have been romping to and fro through 



