22 IN WINTER. 



closer, I recalled the day's adventures as I with- 

 drew, thinking how true it was that pleasant 

 surprises are ever in store for the earnest ram- 

 bler and many a loss for him who is faint-hearted. 

 It is not well to judge the world through a win- 

 dow. 



tooobs in tXHnter. 



WHEN I walk in the woods in summer I 

 think of the trees as a shelter. They go to form 

 a protection alike against the sun and passing 

 shower. And if I turn from the old cart-path it 

 is but to enter some one-side compartment of a 

 great labyrinth of rooms. No one tree calls for 

 observation. They are as the inner walls of a 

 great house, and what they surround alone com- 

 mands attention. It is going out of doors as 

 much to leave the thick woods as to pass from 

 your dwelling. But now, during December's 

 bright, cheery, winter days, every tree in these 

 same woods becomes my companion. We are 

 exposed to the same sunny sky, and as I wan- 

 der from one to another, each has its pleasant 

 greeting for me. This has been a life-long fancy 

 of mine. Walk up to a century-old oak, and 

 how promptly it speaks to you of giant strength 

 and sturdy independence ; turn then to a stately 



