2 THE STORY OF A BIRD LOVER 



set little bird, with an abbreviated tail ; its colors 

 are charming; blacks and browns and chestnuts 

 are barred in a very effective manner ; otherwise 

 there is nothing particularly remarkable or charac- 

 teristic in its appearance or manner. During the 

 migrations the notes are insignificant, but while 

 mating and nesting the male birds sing constantly, 

 rivalling many songsters more famous. 



Brooklyn was little more than a village in 1852, 

 the year when I was born, and all the country back 

 of the City Hall was open, fields and farms ; the 

 Heights south of Wall Street ferry sloped down 

 in a green bank to New York Bay, and Bedford 

 and Coney Island were remote points where we 

 went for excursions to the country. It was a 

 village with a volunteer fire department, and no 

 general water or sewer system. There was a 

 public pump in the street nearly opposite where 

 we lived, to which all the neighbors went for 

 water, — a centre of gossip and news. 



I said that the winter wren was the first bird 

 that definitely impressed me ; but long before that 

 I have a distinct recollection of a lively interest in 

 animals. One day (I could not have been more 

 than four years old, for my father died when I was 

 not quite five) I was called into a bedroom up- 

 stairs, where I found my father and mother. 

 My father had taken the corner of the rug which 

 covered the floor and had rolled it up so that one 



