CROSS-CUT VIEWS OF WINTER. 233 



wrought pinnacle bends over, breaks off at the base 

 and adheres to the grass blade. There a star flies 

 away and vanishes in the air. Rhomboidal blocks 

 are dislocated and tumble down, till nothing is 

 left of the beautiful architecture but the tiny- 

 drops of water clinging to the stems. 



The birds that brought this cousin to the olive, 

 named the privet or prim, have not lived in vain, 

 for its persistent panicles of shining black drupes 

 supply food to many hungry stomachs and crops 

 during the snow embargo. A partridge has been 

 feeding on the berries, some of the pulps and 

 skins have fallen from the bill on the snow, stain- 

 ing it with the rich purple oil. Some seed-eating 

 finches have lightly printed the snow around a dry 

 primrose stalk, and broken off the grain-bin covers 

 for a meal. 



Everywhere there are signs of a hard struggle 

 for existence. Everything that projects above the 

 snow is thoroughly inspected, that it may furnish 

 some seed or grub to sustain life. It is the severe 

 extremity to which these animals are put that 

 develops the sharpest eyes and claws and the 

 keenest senses to enable them to search for and 

 find their food, and only the more vigorous sur- 

 vive. The owner of that melancholy scream, the 



