MIDWINTER MINSTRELSY. 13 



one mile, during my recent outings, comparative 

 silence reigned. And now, what of to-day, the 

 last one of the month ? I heard the crested tit 

 whistling in the far-off woods before the sun had 

 risen, and not less musical was the distant caw- 

 ing of the myriad crows that were just leaving 

 their roost. Overhead, in the tops of the tali 

 pines, were nuthatches and chicadees, and shortly 

 after a host of pine finches. They were all fret- 

 ting, as I fancied, because the wide reaches of 

 meadow near by were still shut from view, but it 

 was not harsh scolding, after all ; and as the day 

 brightened, their voices cleared, until later, when 

 the birds had scattered among the hedges, they 

 all sang sweetly ; for at such a time the ear is 

 not critical, and even the plaint of the nuthatch 

 is not out of tune. On and on I walked, expect- 

 ing in the wilder woods and about the marshy 

 meadows to find birds and birds many that 

 sang and others that would interest by virtue of 

 their ways. I confidently looked for the host of 

 winter finches and the overstaying herons, but I 

 saw none, heard none. By noon the whole coun- 

 try was sadly silent, and not even a crow passed 

 by. Yet the day was perfect ; save a little cooler, 

 it was typical Indian-summer weather. Plant 

 life responded to the inviting sunshine, and I 

 gathered violets and spring beauty. Even the 

 saxifrage shone through the brown leaves, its 



