A WOODLAND INTIMATE. 33 



Fresh from this adventure, and all aglow 

 with pleasurable excitement, I met a friend 

 in the city, a naturalist of repute, and one 

 of the founders of the American Ornitholo- 

 gists' Union. Of course I regaled him with 

 an account of my wonderful vireo (he was 

 the man to whom I had half promised the 

 nest) ; and on his expressing a wish to see 

 her, I invited him out for the purpose that 

 very afternoon. I smile to remember how 

 full of fears I was, as he promptly accepted 

 the invitation. The bird, I declared to my- 

 self, would be like the ordinary baby, who, 

 as everybody knows, is never so stupid as 

 when its fond mother would make a show 

 of it before company. Yesterday it was so 

 bright and cunning ! Never was baby like 

 it. Yesterday it did such and such unheard- 

 of things ; but to-day, alas, it will do noth- 

 ing at all. However, I put on a bold face, 

 filled my pen -box with rose-leaves, ex- 

 changed my light-colored hat for the black 

 one in which my pet had hitherto seen me, 

 furnished my friend with a field-glass, and 

 started with him for the wood. The nest 

 was occupied (I believe I never found it 

 otherwise), and, stationing my associate in 



