76 ALONG THE HILLSBOROUGH. 
When it rose upon the wing, indeed, it 
seemed almost too light, almost unsteady, as 
if it lacked ballast, like a butterfly. It was 
the most numerous bird of its tribe along 
the river, I think, and, with one exception, 
the most approachable. That exception was 
the green heron, which frequented the flats 
along the village front, and might well have 
been mistaken for a domesticated bird ; let- 
ting you walk across a plank directly over 
its head while it squatted upon the mud, and 
when disturbed flying into a fig-tree before 
the hotel piazza, just as the dear little ground 
doves were in the habit of doing. To me, 
who had hitherto seen the green heron in 
the wildest of places, this tameness was an 
astonishing sight. It would be hard to say 
which surprised me more, the New Smyrna_ 
green herons or the St. Augustine sparrow- 
hawks, — which latter treated me very much 
as I am accustomed to being treated by vil- 
lage-bred robins in Massachusetts. 
The Louisiana heron was my favorite, as 
I say, but imcomparably the handsomest 
member of the family (1 speak of such as I 
saw) was the great white egret. In truth, 
the epithet “handsome” seems almost a 
