facts could not dispel the feeling of Spring that the bright morning had cast over me. Even the snap of a twig, and the groaning crunch of my feet in soggy snow had a certain April-like sound to it.
     Something in the fresh air and sunshine gave me an indefinite adventure some feeling - I wanted to seek new fields and new woods with unfamiliar paths. So I pushed thru the front part of Pinehollow, crossed a fence and came out on the Canfield Road, with a view to cutting westward and northward thru unknown fields. Something - perhaps it was fate - or nature herself - conspired that I should not do so. Perhaps it was a flock of gold finches that decided me. The moment I stepped from the fence to the path running along the road they flew up, uttering their cherry odd cries, that I have formerly have always associated with late summer. Perhaps this was because before I had never seen them in winter, but always flying around ripened sunflower heads for the seeds. In winter too they are dressed in plain unfamiliar garb very like the female appears in summer dull olive and grey. They alighted in one of the trees that fringed the roadside and there they sat, their cries making the air mus­-