SINGING GOOD-BY. 191 



not seem to be satisfied with his achievement, or 

 possibly he found the position rather lonely; 

 at any rate, the next use of his wings was to 

 return to his native apple, to the lower part. 

 During this visit, the mother of the little brood, 

 seeing, I suppose, her labors growing lighter, 

 indulged herself and delighted me with a scrap 

 of song, very sweet, as the song of the female 

 oriole always is. 



It was with forebodings that I approached 

 the tree the next morning, foreboding speedily 

 confirmed the whole family was gone ! Either 

 I had not stayed late enough or I had not got 

 up early enough to see the flitting ; that song, 

 then, meant something it was my good-by. 



Indeed it turned out to be my farewell, as I 

 thought, for the whole tribe seemed to have 

 vanished. Usually it is not difficult to hunt up 

 a little bird family in its wanderings, during the 

 month following its leaving the nest, but this 

 one I could neither see nor hear, and I was very 

 sure those oriole babies had not so soon out- 

 grown their crying ; they must have been struck 

 dumb or left the place. 



Nearly three weeks later I was wandering 

 about in what was called the glen, half a mile 

 or more from where the apple-tree babies had 

 first seen the light. It was a wild spot, a ra- 

 vine, through which ran a stream, where many 



