OUR COUNTRY LIFE 



Woodbine leaves surround it and creep over the well- 

 filled box of rose geranium and lemon verbena. 

 Through it I look out into leafy depths sparkling with 

 raindrops or shimmering with sunlight, into green 

 bowers or gay autumnal mazes. Beneath the maple 

 a wild cherry has spread its glossy foliage, and below 

 the terrace lies the formal garden radiant as a jewel 

 against the cool recesses of the forest. Beyond the tall 

 shrubbery gleam the changing waters of the lake, and 

 the sky broods over all. Beside this window is my 

 favorite seat, and I have no need for other pictures 

 than those framed within this open space. 



The birds have chosen this maple for a resting place 

 and here from the tiniest warbler to the rampant 

 blue jay they give me ample opportunities to ob- 

 serve their various manners. Here is always a generous 

 supply of suet for those who like that best, and here 

 too hangs the German food-bell furnishing the chick- 

 adees with winter provender. 



The chickadee is a bird of moods. No one can feel 

 perfectly acquainted with him who has only seen him 



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