SCRAPING ACQUAINTANCE. 135 
ably spoken of as ponds) in our vicinity, on the 
borders of which the village “gunners” built 
pine-branch booths in the season. 
But now, as I have said, my ignorance was 
converted all at once into a kind of bless- 
ing; for no sooner had I begun to read bird 
books, and consult a cabinet of mounted speci- 
mens, than every turn out-of-doors became full 
of all manner of delightful surprises. Could it 
be that what I now beheld with so much won- 
der was only the same as had been going on 
year after year in these my own familiar lanes 
and woods? ‘Truly the human eye is nothing 
more than a window, of no use unless the man 
looks out of it. 
Some of the experiences of that period seem 
ludicrous enough in the retrospect. Only two 
or three days after my eyes were first opened I 
was out with a friend in search of wild-flowers 
(I was piloting him to a favorite station for 
Viola pubescens), when I saw a most elegant 
little creature, mainly black and white, but 
with brilliant orange markings. He was dart- 
ing hither and thither among the branches of 
some low trees, while I stared at him in amaze- 
ment, calling on my comrade, who was as igno- 
rant as myself, but less excited, to behold the 
prodigy. Half trembling lest the bird should 
prove to be some straggler from the tropics, the 
