100 A SWEET- VOICED WREN. 



that is precisely what he does. I have not found 

 his nest in these suburbs, for one does not like to go 

 prowling too much about one's neighbors' dwellings, 

 but there was, during the last summer, a wren nur- 

 sery somewhere in the neighborhood, perhaps in a 

 box, or a hollow stump, or a fence post ; for I fre- 

 quently heard the alarm call of the parent birds 

 across the way, which meant that some one had 

 come too near their homestead for their comfort. 



Close to a house on the borders of a woodland 

 tliat I often haunt, I found another pair of these 

 birds, but was here also unable to discover their 

 nest. However, in one of my strolls I formed the 

 acquaintance of the young birds, in company with 

 their elders, after they had left the nursery. None 

 of them seemed to be very shy that day, but flitted 

 about in a brush-heap, looking up at me as if I 

 were an object of curiosity, not in the least 

 dangerous. The bantlings looked so handsome in 

 their new, barred suits, which were of a slightly 

 duller cast than those of the old birds, that I could 

 not help calling them " little darlings " to their 

 faces ! I noticed that even the juvenile birds had 

 already fallen into the habit of brandishing their 

 long, unwieldy tails, just as their ancestors have 

 been doincr for I know not liow lono- before them. 



