130 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS. 
who lived across the road by the bank of Mill 
River had flown over to talk with the visitors ; 
while above the rest full and rich came the song 
of the handsome rose-breasted grosbeak. My 
cover was a happy thought. Right into the tree 
over my head came the birds, so busy flitting 
about the leaves they had little time to look under 
the branches. And most beautiful of all—though 
a rainbow of warblers came before I left — was 
this dainty, golden-throated vireo. | 
Less restless than the warblers, he inspected the 
boughs more thoroughly, giving me at intervals 
glimpses of his olive back, white wing bars, and 
bright yellow chin and throat as well as his pretty 
yellow breast that turns to white below. Whe-he- 
he, he sang out as he worked, and I suspect his 
sharp eyes detected me when he turned his head 
on one side and peered through the leaves. 
How delighted I was to discover, a few weeks 
later, that he or one of his brothers had gone to 
housekeeping on the campus! The nest was the 
first vireo basket I had ever seen, and I well re- 
member the enthusiasm it excited in the other 
college girls. We would go out after breakfast, 
wade through the damp grass to the maple from 
which it hung, and stand looking up at it, admir- 
ing the bits of white trimming fastened on at reg- 
ular intervals along the sides, and exclaiming at 
the beauty of the architect watching us from among 
the leaves, until, at last, the tolling of the chapel 
bell would send us hurrying back up the hill. 
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