A DISSEMBLING WEEN. 25 



low and oft-repeated cry, like " Hear, hear, 

 hear ! " It was emphatic and imperative, as if 

 some unfortunate little body had the business 

 of the world on his shoulders, and could not get 

 it done to his mind. I carefully approached the 

 disturbed voice, and was surprised to find it 

 belonged to the wren, who was so disconcerted 

 at sight of me, that I concluded this particular 

 sort of utterance must be for the benefit of his 

 family alone. Later, that kind of talk, his lord- 

 and-master style as I supposed, was the most 

 common sound I heard from him, and not near 

 the cottage and the brush heap, but across the 

 brook. I thought that perhaps I had displeased 

 him by too close surveillance, and he had set 

 up housekeeping out of my reach. Across the 

 brook I could not go, for between "our side" 

 and the other raged a feud, which had culmin- 

 ated in torn-up bridges and barbed wire protec- 

 tions. 



One day, however, I had a surprise. In 

 studying another bird, I was led around to the 

 back of the still shut-up cottage, and there I 

 found, very unexpectedly, an exceedingly busy 

 and silent wren. He did sing occasionally while 

 I watched him from afar, but in so low a tone 

 that it could not be heard a few steps away. Of 

 course I understood this unnatural circumspec- 

 tion, and on observing him cautiously, I saw that 



