WILD LIFE OF ORCHARD AND FIELD 



which had dwelt in the wood-pile all winter. But 

 in a very few minutes a plentiful company came 

 to our table, including some whose presence I had 

 not noted before, evidently new - comers. There 

 were song-sparrows with black ephods; the big- 

 headed white-throats, and their brethren with the 

 jaunty caps of black and white; the chestnut- 

 crowned tree-sparrows; a goldfinch, still wearing 

 his dull winter suit; a whole host of snow-birds, 

 in white waistcoats with ivory bills and pink stock- 

 ings; nuthatches, chickadees, and, most beautiful 

 of all, the purple finch. 



This last is one of our most confiding and pret- 

 ty birds, looking as if he had plunged his crested 

 head deep into the juice of dead-ripe strawberries, 

 the rich syrup of which had trickled down his breast, 

 staining rosily the white feathers, and had poured 

 over his back into a pool near his tail. 



How did all these little beggars learn so quickly 

 that alms had been spread for them? Where had 

 they been hiding? Whither did they disappear 

 next day, when the sun had come out, the ice had 

 melted, and not a bird visited my lunch-counter? 



