20 IN WINTER. 



over me. Once it came very near, stopped and 

 looked me squarely in the face, but without its 

 suspicions being aroused. Probably I needed 

 but a few cobwebs to have brought it even 

 closer. 



For long the light-hearted birds, in joyous 

 mood, passed up and down this hidden high- 

 way, often within arm's reach, and not one rec- 

 ognized me. It was much like being alone in a 

 strange city, where the feeling of desolate isola- 

 tion can best be realized. Much as I might de- 

 sire it, I could in no sense become a part of the 

 happy world about me. Here, at times, is the 

 shadow that rests upon the rambler's path to 

 feel that at best he is but tolerated, and to know 

 that had these happy creatures the power they 

 would drive him into the bleak world beyond . 



One interesting feature of bird life was to-day 

 very apparent. Never did two or more individu- 

 als meet upon the same twig but a low, scarcely 

 audible twitter was uttered. I could often see a 

 slight movement of the beak, without hearing a 

 sound, and notice a gentle tremor of the wings, 

 that doubtless meant much to them, but can not 

 be interpreted by us. Then away they would 

 go, following the line of the long ditch without 

 grazing the tiniest twig that bent above them. 

 Why many a sparrow, apparently in reckless 

 haste, did not come to grief, is indeed a puzzle ; 



