78 CHICKAMAUGA. 



I stood in the back door, on my way thither, 

 there suddenly flashed upon me from a tree- 

 top by the fence a splendid Baltimore oriole. 

 He fairly "gave me a start," and I broke 

 out to the young fellow beside me, " Why, 

 there 's a Baltimore oriole ! " The exclama- 

 tion was thrown away, but I did not mind. 



It was the birds' own hour, — late after- 

 noon, with sunshine after rain. The or- 

 chard and shade-trees were alive with wings, 

 and the air was loud. How brilliant a com- 

 pany it was a list of names will show; a 

 mocking-bird, a thrasher, several catbirds, a 

 pair of bluebirds, a pair of orchard orioles, 

 a summer tanager, a wood pewee, and a 

 flicker, with goldfinches and indigo-birds, 

 and behind the orchard a Bachman finch. 

 For bright colors and fine voices that was a 

 chorus hard to beat. As for the Baltimore 

 oriole, the brightest bird of the lot, and the 

 only one of his race that I found in all that 

 country, he looked most uncommonly at 

 home — to me — in the John Dyer trees. 

 I was never gladder to see him. 



A strange fate this that had befallen these 

 Georgia farms, owned once by Dyer, Snod- 

 grass, Kelly, Brotherton, and the rest : the 



