A NEW SONG. 243 



syncrasies of human surroundings in ways pe- 

 culiarly their own, they pried into and under 

 everything, opened the match-safe and threw 

 out the contents, tore the paper off the wall in 

 great patches, pecked the backs of books, and 

 probed every hole and crack with their sharp 

 beaks. They ate very daintily, and were ex- 

 ceedingly fond of dried currants. For this little 

 treat the male soon learned to tease, alighting 

 on the desk, looking wistfully at the little china 

 box whence he knew they came, wiping his bill, 

 and, in language plain enough to a bird-student, 

 asking for some. He even went so far, when I 

 did not at once take the hint, as to address me 

 in low, coaxing talk of very sweet and varied 

 tones. Still I was deaf, and he came within 

 two feet of me, uttering the half-singing talk, 

 and later burst into song as his supreme effort 

 at pleasing or propitiating the dispenser of 

 dainties. I need not say that he had his fill 

 after that. 



On the 24th of April spring emotions began 

 to work in the oriole family. The first symp- 

 tom was a song, so low it was scarcely heard, 

 though the agitation of the singer, with head 

 thrown up and tail quivering, was plainly enough 

 seen. As it grew in volume from day to day, 

 it proved to be totally different from the beauti- 

 ful oriole strain of four or six notes, so familiar 



