EARLY SPRING IN MASSACHUSETTS. 41 
farm pine woods, and thence to rear of John 
Hosmer’s. See a large flock of snow buntings, 
the white birds of the winter, rejoicing in the 
snow. I stand near a flock in an open field. 
They are trotting about briskly over the snow, 
amid the weeds, apparently pig-weed and Ro¬ 
man wormwood, as if to keep their toes warm 
hopping up to the weeds. Then they suddenly 
take to wing again, and as they wheel about 
one, it is a very rich sight to see them dressed 
in black and white uniforms, alternate black 
and white, very distinct and singular. Perhaps 
no colors would be more effective above the 
snow, black tips (considerably more) to wings, 
then clear white between this and the back, 
which is black or very dark again.They 
alight again equally near. Their track is much 
like a small crow’s track. 
The last new journal thinks that it is very 
liberal, nay, bold ; but it does not publish a 
child’s thought on important subjects, such as 
life and death and good books. It requires 
the sanction of the divines just as surely as 
the tamest journal does. If it had been pub¬ 
lished at the time of the famous dispute be¬ 
tween Christ and the doctors, it would have 
published only the opinions of the doctors and 
suppressed Christ’s. There is no need of a 
law to check the license of the press. It is law 
