182 THE VAGARIES OF A WARBLER. 



nut tree; and I could look far up where its 

 branches spread out wide and held their grace- 

 ful leafy stars against the blue. 



In the woods I am never lonely ; but I was 

 not this morning alone. Near by a vireo kept 

 up his tireless song ; a gray squirrel peeped cu- 

 riously at me from behind a trunk, his head 

 showing on one side and his tail on the other; 

 an oven-bird stole up behind to see what man- 

 ner of creature this was, and far oif I could 

 hear the tanager singing. 



I did not notice the time ; but after a while I 

 became conscious of a low whistle which seemed 

 to mingle with my reveries, and might have 

 been going on for some minutes. Suddenly it 

 struck me that it was the call of my fellow-stu- 

 dent, and I started up the road wondering lazily 

 if she had found the nest, and, to tell the truth, 

 not caring much whether she had or not. For, 

 to tell the whole truth, I had long ago steeled my 

 heart against the fascinations of those bewitch- 

 ing little sprites who never stay two seconds in 

 one spot, and sternly resolved never, never to 

 get interested in a warbler. 



My companion, however, was not so philo- 

 sophical or so cool. She never could withstand 

 the flit of a warbler wing ; she would follow for 

 half a day the absurd but enchanting little trill ; 

 and she regularly went mad (so to speak) at 



