102 EVERYDAY BIRDS 
‘¢ Sweet bird, thy bower is ever green, 
Thy sky is ever clear ; 
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, 
No winter in thy year.” 
It is worth giving a little time daily to what is 
called ornithology to be able to greet such wan- 
derers as they come and go. For some days now 
a few Western palm warblers have been paying 
us a visit, and, though the town has never com- 
missioned me to that office, I have taken it upon 
myself to do them the honors. They have met 
me halfway, at least, as the everyday expression 
is; yielding readily to my enticements, and more 
than once coming near enough to show me their 
white ‘lower eyelids, so that I might be quite sure 
of their identity. A little later the Hastern palm 
warbler will be due, and I hope to find him equally 
complaisant; for I wish to see his lower eyelid, 
also, which is yellow instead of white. 
At this time of the year, indeed, there is no 
lack of such interesting and well-dressed stran- 
gers, no matter where we may go. The woods 
are alive with them by day, and the air by night. 
There are few evenings when you may not hear 
them calling overhead as they hasten southward. 
Men who have watched them through telescopes, 
pointed at the full moon, have calculated their 
height at one or two miles. One observer saw 
