rl aloft
braving the blasts of winter like little heroes."

"Well," said Bobbie, after a while, "if those little soft white birds
can go about in such weather, I guess I can too," and in a few minutes
with high rubber boots, and a fur cap drawn over his ears, off trudged
Bobbie like another little hero to school.

THE SNOWFLAKE.

This charming bird comes to us at a time when his presence may be
truly welcomed and appreciated, nearly all our summer companions of
the feathered tribe having departed. He might not inappropriately be
named the great Snowflake, though in winter he wears a warm brown
cloak, with black stripes, brown collar, and a brown and white vest.
In summer, however, he is snow white, with black on the back, wings,
and tail. He lives all over northern North America, and in the United
States as far south as Georgia.

About the first of November, flocks of Snowflakes may be seen
arriving, the males chanting a very low and somewhat broken, but
very pleasant song. Some call him White Snowbird, and Snow Bunting,
according to locality. The birds breed throughout the Arctic regions
of both continents, the National Museum at Washington possessing nests
from the most northern points of Alaska, (Point Barrow), and from
Labrador, as well as from various intermediate localities.

These birds are famous seed eaters, and are rarely found in trees.
They should be looked for on the ground, in the air, for they are
constantly seeking new feeding grounds, in the barn-yard, or about the
hay stack, where seeds are plentiful. They also nest on the ground,
building a deep, grassy nest, lined with rabbit fur or feathers, under
a projecting ledge of rock or thick bunch of grass. It seems curious
that few persons readily distinguish them from their sparrow cousins,
as they have much more white about them than any other color. Last
November multitudes of them invaded Washington Park, settling on the
ground to feed, and flying up and scurrying away to successive
pastures of promise. With their soft musical voices and gentle
manners, they were a pleasing feature of the late Autumn landscape.
"Chill November's surly blast" making "field and forest bare," had no
terrors for them, but rather spread before them a feast of scattered
seeds, winnowed by it from nature's ripened abundance.

The Snowflakes disappear with the melting of their namesake, the
snow. They are especially numerous in snowy seasons, when flocks of
some