both songs ceased and I was left to saunter thru the growth of maple saplings.  Saunter I did, here and there examining a sapling that was especially coated with frost.  Too soon I came to the end of Bentley’s, and crossing the railfence that runs along its eastern edge, I came out into the Field between North Forker’s and North Bentley’s.  The Beech Grove was even more beautiful than I have yet seen it.  All at once cardinals and peter-birds seemed to go mad for they began to call and sing on every hand.  I simply stood still listening.  And then, - more wonderful still – I heard the song of a songsparrow.  I then, was not the only one who believed spring was coming.
      Presently I turned and descended into the hollow.  At the willows, I saw some off ice.  It was as thin as paper and lay across a small depression, about two or three inches above solid ice.  When I tramped thru it, it sounded like a rattling of time.  For a short distance I went along the bed of the stream, and then I struck up the side of the hill to the path leading along the south edge of Forkers.  As I went along here, I was accompanied on every side by the songs of the two birds,