36 A WOODLAND INTIMATE. 



tection of American song-birds, and took us 

 for representatives of the Audubon Society. 



Desiring to make some fresh experiment, 

 I set out the next morning with a little 

 water and a teaspoon, in addition to my 

 ordinary outfit of rose-leaves. The mother 

 bird was at home, and without hesitation 

 dipped her bill into the water, the very 

 first solitary vireo, I dare be bound, that 

 ever drank out of a silver spoon ! After- 

 wards I gave her the insects, of which she 

 swallowed twenty-four as fast as I could 

 pick them up. Evidently she was hungry, 

 and appreciated my attentions. There was 

 nothing whatever of the coquettishness 

 which she had sometimes displayed. On 

 the contrary, she leaned forward to wel- 

 come the tidbits, one by one, quite as if it 

 were the most natural thing in the world 

 for birds to be waited upon in this fashion 

 by their human admirers. Toward the end, 

 however, a squirrel across the way set up 

 a loud bark, and she grew nervous ; so that 

 when it came to the twenty-fifth louse, 

 which was the last I could find, she was 

 too much preoccupied to care for it. 



At this point a mosquito stung my neck, 



