188 A COTTON PLANTATION. 



far from hopeless. A bright thought came 

 to me. I ran from the path with a great 

 show of eager absorption, leveled my glass 

 upon the pine-tree, and stood fixed. Per- 

 haps Mr. would take the hint. Alas ! 



he had too much courtesy to pass his own 

 guest without speaking. " Still after the 

 birds ? " he said, as he checked his horse. I 

 responded, as I hope, without any symptom 

 of annoyance. Then, of course, he wished to 

 know what I was looking at, and I told him 

 that a blue grosbeak had just flown into that 

 pine-tree, and that I was most distressingly 

 anxious to see more of him. He looked at 

 the pine-tree. "I can't see him," he said. 

 No more could I. " It was n't a blue jay, 

 was it? " he asked. And then we talked of 

 one thing and another, I have no idea what, 

 till he rode away to another part of the plan- 

 tation where a gang of women were at work. 

 By this time the grosbeak had disappeared 

 utterly. Possibly he had gone to a bit of 

 wood on the opposite side of the cane-swamp. 

 I scaled a barbed-wire fence and made in 

 that direction, but to no purpose. The gros- 

 beak was gone for good. Probably I should 

 never see another. Could the planter have 



