ical. There is a certain air of good fellowship about their cries that is especially charming. Every bird seems to be earnestly talking to and taking an interest in, his companions. One cannot but feel this sensation and sympathize with the little fellows. I stood perfectly motion1ess almost under the trees, and then they seemed to be trying to tell me something. That may sound senti­mentally exaggerated, but their cries, as they peered curiously down at me, seemed to be eagerly communicative as tho perhaps, something of the electricity in the air had gotten into them and they wanted to let each other, and anyone who would listen know all about it.    A step too near - and away they flew, calling still more volubly and  disappeared to the east towards Pinehollow where they settled in a field. I looked out over the meadows to the west and then at the dark grey trees of Pinehollow, undecided which to go to. I yearned strangely for Pinehollow. Perhaps it was the flock of goldfinches that lured me on, and then again perhaps it was an unconscious desire to face the cheerful sun - it seemed almost an effort to go westward on such a morning. At any rate, across the fields toward Pinehollow, I went. Once I heard the Spring call of a nuthatch.  Presently I came to the edge of