226 A BIRD-ggVER'S APRIL. 
out of a tangle of underbrush behind a dilapi- 
dated stone-wall, —a spot for all the world 
congenial to this tiny recluse, whose whole life, 
we may say, is one long game of hide-and-seek. 
Altogether the song was repeated twenty times 
at least, and to my thinking I had never heard 
it given with greater brilliancy and fervor. 
The darling little minstrel! he will never know 
how grateful I felt. I even forgave him when 
he sang thrice from a living bush, albeit in so 
doing he spoiled a sentence which I had al- 
ready committed to ‘“‘ the permanency of print.” 
Birds of all kinds will play such tricks upon us ; 
but whether the fault be chargeable to fickle- 
ness or a mischievous spirit on their part, rather 
than to undue haste on the part of us their re- 
porters, is a matter about which I am perhaps 
not sufficiently disinterested to judge. In this 
instance, however, it was reasonably certain 
that the singer did not show himself intention- 
ally ; for unless the whole tenor of his life belies 
him, the winter wren’s motto is, Little birds 
should be heard, and not seen. 
Two days afterward I was favored again in 
like manner. But not by the same bird, I 
think; unless my hearing was at fault (the 
singer was further off than before), this one’s 
tune was in places somewhat broken and hesi- 
tating, —as if he were practicing a lesson not 
yet fully learned. 
