A WOODLAND INTIMATE. 43 



pate my motions. Then I stole a last look 

 at the four pretty eggs, having almost to 

 force her from the nest for that purpose, 

 bade her good-by, and came away, sorry 

 enough to leave her ; forecasting, as I could 

 not help doing, the slight probability of 

 finding her again on my return, and pictur- 

 ing to myself all the sweet, motherly ways 

 she would be certain to develop as soon as 

 the little ones were hatched. 



Within an hour I was speeding toward 

 the Green Mountains. There, in those an- 

 cient Vermont forests, I saw and heard 

 other solitary vireos, but none that treated 

 me as my Melrose pair had done. Noble 

 and gentle spirits ! though I were to live a 

 hundred years, I should never see their like 

 again. 



The remainder of the story is, unhappily, 

 soon told. I was absent a fortnight, and on 

 getting back went at once to the sacred 

 oak. Alas ! there was nothing but a sev- 

 ered branch to show where the vireos' nest 

 had hung. The cut looked recent ; I was 

 thankful for that. Perhaps the " collector," 

 whoever he was, had been kind enough to 

 wait till the owners of the house were done 



