After the Snow. 9 



that the little white patch has shrunken, but we cannot see 

 it done, for the " speed is but the heavy plummet's pace." 

 An occasional beetle appears on the snow, running about 

 in much haste, its black body showing plainly. The pro- 

 tective coloring is at fault there, but it resents all interference 

 with a strong-odored, acrid secretion, which taints the 

 fingers long afterward. The wasps fly out from their 

 winter hiding, and seek the open places where the grass is, 

 but they are weak, and when you come near they make 

 several efforts, fall on their sides, and finally, with much 

 labor, fly away. 



A pair of bluebirds, looking for a home, find the old 

 hollow tree in the field. They call constantly to each 

 other, and the male seems to think that most any place 

 will do. He pokes his head into a hollow and calls 

 ardently to his mate, and when she comes he flutters 

 about on the branch and utters an almost squeaking cry. 

 But the madam is more particular, and flies away after a 

 moment's examination. What a noble use nature makes 

 of many artificial things ! The wild woodbine climbs the 

 fence and the caterpillars spin their cocoons there, or hang 

 in chrysalis from the rails, and when a bluebird calls to its 

 mate from a telegraph wire it bears truly a message of 

 love. His voice is mild, and is in sympathy with the 

 more kindly human messages that are carried unknown to 

 him by the wire beneath his feet. He seems to have been 

 born a gentleman, to be incapable of any meanness, and 

 he has much of " that inbred loyalty unto virtue." You 

 fancy that he is strictly honest, and is not on speaking 

 terms with the wily crow. 



