s ever a feeling of cruelty, of injustice
somewhere.

How pitiful the weak flight of the last yellow butterfly of the year, as
with tattered and battered wings it vainly seeks for a final sip of
sweets! The fallen petals and the hard seeds are black and odourless, the
drops of sap are hardened. Little by little the wings weaken, the tiny
feet clutch convulsively at a dried weed stalk, and the four golden wings
drift quietly down among the yellow leaves, soon to merge into the dark
mould beneath. As the butterfly dies, a stiffened Katydid scratches a last
requiem on his wing covers--"_katy-didn't--katy-did--kate--y_"--and the
succeeding moment of silence is broken by the sharp rattle of a
woodpecker. We shake off every dream of the summer and brace ourselves to
meet and enjoy the keen, invigorating pleasures of winter.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

NOVEMBER

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NOVEMBER'S BIRDS OF THE HEAVENS

As the whirling winds of winter's edge strip the trees bare of their last
leaves, the leaden sky of the eleventh month seems to push its cold face
closer to earth. Who can tell when the northern sparrows first arrive? A
whirl of brown leaves scatters in front of us; some fall back to earth;
others rise and perch in the thick briers,--sombre little white-throated
and tree sparrows! These brown-coated, low-voiced birds easily attract our
attention, the more now that the great host of brilliant warblers has
passed, just as our hearts warm toward the humble poly-pody fronds
(passing them by unnoticed when flowers are abundant) which now hold up
their bright greenness amid all the cold.

But all the migrants have not left us yet by any means, and we had better
leave our boreal visitors until mid-winter's blasts show us these hardiest
of the hardy at their best.

We know little of the ways of the gaunt herons on their southward journey,
but day after day, in the marshes and along the streams, we may see the
great blues as they stop in their flight to rest for a time.

The cold draws all the birds of a species together. Dark hordes of
clacking grackles pass by, scores of red-winged blackbirds and cowbirds
mingle amicably together, both of dark hue but of such unlike matrimonial
habits. A single male red-wing, as we have seen, may assume the cares of a
harem of three, four, or five females, each of which rear