were alive with tiny merry streams of melting snow and ice. The sight of running water amid sodden ice and snow always conveys to the mind a string feeling of spring.  In other ways too, as I found out during the course of my walk, it seemed like spring.
     For me, the fields of the Three Trees seemed to be the only outlet from town to country. Here it is that my course always starts, whether it be to Bentley’s, Post’s,or Pincho1low, that I am going to, and to-day found me here. The field that is just east of The Three Trees was mottled with pieces of ice, hidden in little depressions in the turf, safe from the sun. In crossing the cornfield beyond, I derived a sort of pleasure. Not wishing to get muddy, I had to choose a course over the soggy ice, which was a winding one, perforce. However, I arrived at the hayfield beyond with only one foot muddy, which I quickly cleaned in some snow.
     Walking along in this field, I gradually determined to explore the fields west of Garfield Ave. Road. And so I now turned northward. At a house fronting Ninth St. I saw Paul, to whom I whistled