I LIGHT THE FRAGRANT FIRE. 127 



and the cast-off skin of the whipsnake, woven into 

 the border as an ornament. 



An accession to my family at the coming of the 

 rains was the wren, the smallest of my tenants, yet 

 the noisiest and most sprightly. This little songster 

 is known as the " God bird " by the negroes, but is 

 what we call the house wren. It builds in the houses 

 of man as well as in the deep woods, and is equally at 

 home in town and forest. Though the most diminu- 

 tive of birds, yet it is brave and even pugnacious. 



An old observer of the actions of birds once told 

 me a story in illustration of its courage and tenacity 

 of purpose. One day, he said, his attention was called 

 to the more than usual vociferations of a pair of these 

 birds that had their nest in his house, on a sugar 

 plantation. On looking out he saw a whipsnake, 

 about four feet long, seeking to hide himself under a 

 tuft of grass from the assaults of the wrens. Going 

 to their assistance, he drew the snake out, when they 

 were upon it at once, striking it right and left, upon 

 the head and tail alternately, as opportunity offered, 

 obliging it to take refuge wherever it could. 



They seemed to pay no attention to the presence 

 of the planter, but continued to strike at it when 

 within a few feet of his hand ; and after they had 

 dispatched it they retired to a near fence and poured 

 out their triumph in an ecstasy of song. 



The wren is noted for its cleanly habits, removing 

 from its nest all refuse after each brood is reared. 

 No sooner is the nest cleared of one litter than incu- 

 bation begins again, four eggs being laid at each sit- 



