188 THE PASSING OF THE BIRDS. 
smile) that I should see my bird again. My 
lunch was hastier than usual, and I was about 
to sally forth when it flashed across me — 
‘Suppose the bird should be there again, 
who would believe my story? Hold! I will 
have a witness.” I called to Mr. J——, 
who was at work upstairs, and after explain- 
ing what I wanted, invited him to accom- 
pany me. We cautiously entered the rock- 
ery, and within a few minutes there flitted 
from a neighboring thicket into that very 
Spirza bush my black-cap! I took out my: 
watch. It was just half past one!” 
My own experiences in this kind have 
been much less striking and dramatic than 
the foregoing, but I may add that a few 
years ago I witnessed the vernal migration 
in a new piece of country— ten miles or so 
from my old field —and found myself at a 
very considerable disadvantage. I had never 
realized till then how much accustomed I 
had grown to look for particular birds in 
particular places, and not in other places of 
a quite similar character. 
I speak of witnessing a migration; but 
what we see for the most part (ducks and 
geese being excepted) is not the actual move- 
