THE BANQUET IN THE SNOW 



The earth lay green and fair beneath 

 the genial sun of May-time ; the trees 

 had unfurled their tender leaflets to the 

 breeze and the wind flowers, the first of 

 summer's reign, made the low hills radi- 

 ant with their delicate blossoms, when 

 stern winter, but lately departed, turned 

 and once more laid his ermine mantle 

 over the prairie. 



Following the great flocks of wild 

 ducks, geese and pelicans, of cranes and 

 herons and crows, numberless hardy 

 songsters, blackbirds and cheery spar- 

 rows, had left their winter homes and 

 ventured into the great Northwest. In 

 our grove and garden, many were the 

 homes undergoing the process of con- 

 struction, whose owners awoke in the 

 chill morning air to find their favorite 

 feeding ground covered by the snow. 



Close by our cottage window is a 

 clump of lilac bushes whose intricate 

 leaves and branches held the soft snow 

 forming a canopy over the bare ground 

 beneath, where a few chipping sparrows 

 were busily searching for food. Seeing 

 this, I spread there a variety of grains 

 and other food suitable for the varying 

 tastes of my expected guests, and sit- 

 ting at the window, I awaited their arri- 

 val. 



The sparrows soon returned and began 

 daintily picking up the smallest seeds. 

 They were soon joined by the thrushes, 

 veeries, wrens, catbirds and robins, and 

 the white throated sparrow^s tossed the 



autumn leaves beyond the borders of 

 their banquet hall. In the robin's nest 

 were four blue-green treasures which 

 the male covered from the falling snow 

 while his mate came to feed at the board 

 where all were welcome, though unin- 

 vited. 



The grackles strode majestically to 

 the feast, followed by their more timid 

 cousins, the red-winged and yellow-head- 

 ed blackbirds, and then dissension arose, 

 the larger driving away the weaker, and 

 those of equal strength fighting over 

 food where there was abundance for all. 



All day there were coming and going 

 not alone the residents, but those who 

 on their long migrations had stopped to 

 rest their weary wings beneath the shel- 

 tering branches of our grove, and the 

 nook beneath the canopy of snow re- 

 sounded with their chatter save when 

 they suddenly started forth at some false 

 alarm. 



On the succeeding day summer smiled 

 on earth once more and the soft cover- 

 ing of snow was dispelled as if by magic 

 while the birds renewed their songs of 

 mirth and cheer, and the fairy banquet 

 hall was deserted. 



Long afterward a single stalk of bar- 

 ley growing from the rich loam grace- 

 fully waved a head of bearded grain 

 above the spot. A fitting emblem, I fan- 

 cied, of that long remembered banquet 

 in the snow. 



Hattie Washburn. 



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