May-Day out of Town. 99 



then darted back into the night. Did it come with 

 a message from its fellows and forget or fear to 

 deliver it ? We will never know, but I hold them 

 now above other warblers and await their commu- 

 nication. How many secrets do the birds with- 

 hold ? Is there one that we can fully comprehend ? 

 This bay -breasted fairy is a lover of tall trees, and 

 seldom deigns to descend even to the lower 

 branches ; yet I have twice had them peer into 

 my face since one entered my study. There is a 

 bond between us, yet of its import I know nothing. 

 None the less does it bind me, and I have an inkling 

 now of the mystery of superstition. Such trivial 

 coincidences as I have mentioned have affected 

 my whole life, and why not others? To injure a 

 bay-breasted warbler would be murder on my part. 

 Beyond the woods were the river-skirting mead- 

 ows. There is much in a name, after all. Meadow 

 and May-day fit well together, and he who now 

 sees the low-lying reaches of green pasture and 

 treacherous marsh, perhaps sees them at their best. 

 Possibly this has been said of these same meadows 

 seen at other seasons, but something must be 

 allowed for May-day enthusiasm. We are under 



