LAST week I had the good fortune to be invited with two other girls to spend a few days in the country. We hailed the invitation with delight and accepted it with alacrity, for we all three love to get out into the woods and fields.

We started on Friday afternoon, going the first part of the journey by train. The sky was cloudy and the weather mild. We watched the moving pictures that sped by the car windows as eagerly as children.

After a half-hour's ride we arrived at a little "town" consisting of the station, one store, one house, one grain elevator, and a blacksmith's shop. Here our hostess met us with a surrey and pair, and we were soon driving along at a risk pace, drinking in the fresh air and country scenery with pure delight. The person whose power of enjoyment in little things has become blunted, is greatly to be pitied. "Ours was as keen as though newly sharpened for the occasion; and nothing we saw, from the fields, trees, and hedges, to the setting sun, failed to give us pleasure.

A merry drive of three or four miles brought us to the farm-house, where we were cordially welcomed.

I should like to tell you about all the fun we had that night, for it was our hostess' birthday, and there was a surprise party, at which we were as much surprised as she was. But as it is our walk I'm going to tell about, I must leave the events of our first evening unrelated.

The next morning we three girls decided to take a walk, as we were anxious to see what birds there were about. It was a gray day, threatening rain, and very wild for December.

The moment we set foot out of doors the distant "caw-caw" of the crows sounded like an invitation in our ears. How I love that sound!

It is to the ear what a dash of color is to the eye.

We took the road to the right, where we saw some woods a quarter of a mile or more away.

Before we had gone far we heard a medley of bird notes coming from the fields on our left. We couldn't make out what they were, as they were some distance away, but I caught a note now and then that sounded like a fragment of the meadowlark's song — just a faint reminiscence of it.

After passing tow pastures and a cornfield on our left, we came to a piece of thin timber land. The road, which began to descend here, had been cut down somewhat, leaving banks more or less steep on either side. We had seen no birds, with the exception of a woodpecker, at close range yet.

Presently we came to a turn in the road which led us up a slight rise of ground, bordered on both sides by woods. Arrived at the top of this hillock we loitered about looking at the many interesting thing that are always to e seen in the woods. All at once we were startled by a shrill scream, or cry, which sounded like some young animal being strangled, and behold! An immense hawk flew off over the treetops. It didn't fly very far though, and gave us more of its music at intervals.

The road from this point led down to a small brook spanned by a wooden bridge. Looking down toward this bridge, a gorgeous sight met our eyes. A flock of cardinals, half a dozen or more, were flying and sporting about among the low bushes near one end of it. What a delicious touch of color for a winter landscape! There were chickadees, too, hopping about among them in a most neighborly fashion. We watched them closely, quietly drawing nearer and nearer. Pretty soon they flew into the trees close by, and from thence deeper into the woods.