THE LIFE OF BIRDS 163 
I think that, this also ended, a new gallery of 
wonder is opening, almost more beautiful, in 
the magnificence of frost and snow, — there 
comes an impression of affluence and liberality 
in the universe which seasons of changeless 
and uneventful verdure would never give. The 
catkins already formed on the alder, quite pre- 
pared to droop into April’s beauty, —the white 
edges of the Mayflower’s petals, already visible 
through the bud, show in advance that winter 
is but a slight and temporary retardation of the 
life of nature, and that the barrier which sepa- 
rates November from March is not really more 
solid than that which parts the sunset from the 
sunrise. 
