102 BY- WA YS AND BIRD-NO TES. 



ever, so strong and fine as the perfumes, odors, 

 and aromas. Of these each season has its 

 own — the perfume of spring flowers, the odors 

 of summer mosses and sweet punk, the aroma 

 of buds and barks and gums. Even in mid- 

 winter, when a warm time comes, and the 

 snow melts, and the ground is thoroughly 

 thawed, there are woodsy odors borne about 

 by the drowsy winds. In fact, the fragrance 

 of January is sweeter and more subtly elusive 

 than that of May. Go nibble the brown, 

 pointed buds of the beech tree in midwinter, 

 and you will find how well the individuality of 

 the trees is condensed in those laminated little 

 spikes. You taste the perfume of tassels and 

 the fragrance of young leaves; there is an 

 aromatic hint of coming nuts. You may almost 

 taste the songs of the spring birds! What 

 words these buds are ! How prophetic ! 

 We bite them, and, lo ! the- spring rises in a 

 vision ! Its poem is read in advance. 



I recollect a clear fountain of cold water 

 around which grew festoons of cress and 

 mint. I had been chasing the wild things 

 all the morning, as a true huntsman will, 

 and now I was tired and thirsty. At such 

 a time what could be more welcome than 

 mint and water ? How soothing the fragrant 

 flavor and the cooling draught ! Then came 

 the biting spiciness of the cress, to reinvigor- 

 ate my nerve withal. Out of my pouch I drew 

 a cake of maple sugar, and feasted like a god. 



When winter begins to come on, the nuts 

 come too. I cannot understand the taste of 

 those who do not like the rich oily kernels 

 of the butternut, the hickory nut, and the 

 sweet acorns of the pine oak. Squirrels know 



