141 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. 



A daily walk leads me past two wide-spreading elnis 

 that overhang the street. In June, for the last two or 

 three years, in each of these a pair of warbling vireos 

 have had a nest, and each fall, months after the young 

 have flown away, the old birds come back to ^^sit the 

 place, and for several days their low sweet warble may 

 be heard near the spot where the little empty nests are 

 hanging. They come in pairs, male and female, show- 

 ing that they have not dissolved their marital relations, 

 as birds by many are supposed to do immediately after 

 the young leave the nest. I know almost the very 

 morning on which I shall first hear them, so regular are 

 , their visits in the autumn. During these few days the 

 singers are sure to have a delighted listener, who loiters 

 long under these trees which they have invested with 

 such interest. I regard them almost as reverently as 

 the ancients did the old talking oaks, which were sup- 

 posed to reveal hidden mysteries to those whom the 

 gods favored. What brings these creatures back to 

 their old haunts, and what lands have they visited dur- 

 ing their absence of so many weeks ? Do they come to 

 see if their pensile nests are still swinging on the sway- 

 ing boughs on which they hung them so long ago ? Do 

 they wish to take another look at the dear place where 

 they wooed and mated, and where their precious little 

 families were watched and tended with such constant 

 and loving care, or are they — provident little creatures 

 that they are — looking for a site and planning the 

 building of their next year's cottage before leaving 

 to winter in a summer chme ? These are questions to 



