WINTER FROLICS. 49 



" Come see the north wind's masonry. 

 Out of an unseen quarry, evermore 

 Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer 

 Carves his white bastions with projected roof 

 Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.'' 



My winter saunterings have never been solitary, 

 although often taken in haunts " far from human 

 neighborhood." The birds have afforded me all 

 the companionship I have really craved. One is 

 never lonely when one can see the flutter of a wing 

 or hear the calls of the blithe commoners of the 

 wildwood. When your soul is fretted by the daily 

 round of strifes and jealousies in the human world, 

 you can hie to the woods, and learn a lesson of con- 

 ciliation from the example of the loving fellowship 

 that exists in the bird community. I have often 

 been shamed by this constant display of amity 

 among many feathered folk, when I thought of the 

 childish bickerings of men in church and state. 



But moralizing aside, I must describe the behavior 

 of my little winter friends, the tree-sparrows. They 

 are the hardiest birds that spend the winter in my 

 neighborhood, disdaining to seek shelter in the 

 thick woods during the most violent snow-storm. 

 Even the snowbirds, whose very name is a synonym 

 for toughness, are glad to seek a covert in some 

 secluded forest nook ; but the tree-sparrows choose 

 the clearing at the border of the woodland, where 

 the wind howls loudest and blows the snow in wild 

 eddies. Here they revel in the storm, flitting from 

 twig to twig, hopping on the snow-covered ground 

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