126 WASTE-LAND WANDERINGS. 



tials, snows, and hail-storms, that attention which they 

 deserve. Each one is rich in rare suggestiveness. 



Even the last rain, ill-tempered as it was, put no quie- 

 tus on the patient frogs. They sung the louder, so I 

 thought, as the rain came rattling on their upturned 

 faces and turned the dripping grass-blades on their backs. 

 " Keep up ! keep !" they shouted as I passed ; and though 

 it rained, I walked the length of that long willow hedge, 

 finding no green thing. Nor did the rain keep back the 

 early birds ; great blue herons sailed among the clouds 

 and then came trooping to the tall trees by the marsh. 

 Advance-guard of the coming host, my pulses quickened 

 as I marked their coming. But these were not the only 

 birds to arrive from the south ; there were small birds 

 in abundance. All the world knows when the geese go 

 north ; it is a fact sure to be recorded in village papers. 

 The eyes that detect the geese, even when mere dots 

 against the sky, fail to see the twittering hosts in the 

 shrubbery. It is, nevertheless, an excellent indication of 

 milder weather when the Arctic birds, that have win- 

 tered south of us, come in great flocks, and enliven for a 

 day or two our woods and meadows. To-day the meadow 

 copses were thronged with white-throated sparrows, and 

 each sung in a subdued tone a few contemplative notes, 

 as though intended for no ears but the singer's. These 

 were not the birds of the past winter months. Many of 

 these passed northward a week ago, but are the winter 

 sojourners of some more southern valley. They come 

 in advance of our summer birds, and foretell mild weath- 

 er with moderate certainty ; but sometimes, let it be borne 

 in mind, they sadly blunder. A cold storm catches them, 



