SCRAPING ACQUAINTANCE. 147 
but the mosquitoes had rallied with such spirit 
that I was glad to beat a retreat to the road. 
Just then an unseen bird broke out into a song, 
and by the time he had finished I was saying to 
myself, A winter wren! Now, if I could only 
see him in the act, and so be sure of the correct- 
ness of my guess! I worked to that end as 
cautiously as possible, but all to no purpose; 
and finally I started abruptly toward the spot 
whence the sound had come, expecting to see 
the bird fly. But apparently there was no bird 
there, and I stood still, in a little perplexity. 
Then, all at once, the wren appeared, hopping 
about among the dead branches, within a few 
yards of my feet, and peering at the intruder 
with evident curiosity ; and the next moment 
he was joined by a hermit thrush, equally in- 
quisitive. Both were silent as dead men, but 
plainly had no doubt whatever that they were 
in their own domain, and that it belonged to 
the other party to move away. I presumed 
that the thrush, at least, had a nest not far off, 
but after a little search (the mosquitoes were 
still active) I concluded not to intrude further 
on his domestic privacy. I had heard the 
wren’s famous song, and it had not been over- 
praised. But then came the inevitable second 
thought: had I really heard it? ‘True, the 
music possessed the wren characteristics, and a 
