VAGARIES OF A BABY. 143 



the food he craved, then he yielded, and joined 

 his relieved relatives out of my sight. 



Many times after that morning did the vaga- 

 ries of that young yellow-throat give me oppor- 

 tunity to study the ways of his family. Having 

 newly escaped from the nursery, in a thorny bush 

 behind thick-growing alders, his strongest desire 

 apparently was to see the world, and those out- 

 lying dead twigs, convenient for the grasp of 

 baby feet, were particularly attractive to him. 

 Every day for nearly a week, as I passed into 

 the quiet old pasture, I stopped to interview the 

 youngster, and always found him inquisitive, 

 and evidently, in his own estimation, far wiser 

 than his elders, who were nearly wild over his 

 conduct. 



This pasture of about forty acres, lying behind 

 my temporary home, was the joy of my heart, 

 being delightfully neglected and fast relapsing 

 into the enchanting wildness of nature. In a 

 deep bed fringed with a charming confusion of 

 trees and bushes ran a tiny stream, which in the 

 spring justified its right to the title of river. 

 Scattering clumps of alders and young trees of 

 many kinds made it a birds' paradise, while 

 wild cherries and berries of all sorts, with abun- 

 dant insect life, offered a spread table the whole 

 summer long. 



Of flowers it was the chosen home. From 



