ALONG THE HILLSBOROUGH. 75 



they were so much more conspicuous. Sun- 

 light favors the white feather ; no other color 

 shows so quickly or so far. If you are on 

 the beach and catch sight of a bird far 

 out at sea, a gull or a tern, a gannet or 

 a loon, it is invariably the white parts 

 that are seen first. And so the little white 

 heron might stand never so closely against 

 the grass or the bushes on the further shore 

 of the river, and the eye could not miss him. 

 If he had been a blue one, at that distance, 

 ten to one he would have escaped me. Be- 

 sides, I was more on the alert for white ones, 

 because I was always hoping to find one of 

 them with black legs. In other words, I 

 was looking for the little white egret, a bird 

 concerning which, thanks to the murderous 

 work of plume-hunters, thanks, also, to 

 those good women who pay for having the 

 work done, I must confess that I went 

 to Florida and came home again without 

 certainly seeing it. 



The heron with which I found myself es- 

 pecially taken was the Louisiana ; a bird of 

 about the same size as the little blue, but 

 with an air of daintiness and lightness that 

 is quite its own, and quite indescribable. 



