THE INVITATION. 



YEARS ago, when quite a youth, I was rambling 

 in the woods, one Sunday, with my brothers, gath- 

 ering black birch, wintergreens, etc., when, as we re- 

 clined upon the ground, gazing vaguely up into the 

 trees, I caught sight of a bird, that paused a moment 

 on a branch above me, the like of which I had never 

 before seen or heard of. It was probably the blue 

 yellow-backed warbler, as I have since found this to 

 be a common bird in those woods ; but to my young 

 fancy it seemed like some fairy bird, so curiously 

 marked was it, and so new and unexpected. I saw 

 it a moment as the flickering leaves parted, noted 

 the white spot on its wing, and it was gone. How 

 the thought of it clung to me afterward ! It was a 

 revelation. It was the first intimation I had had 

 that the woods we knew so well held birds that 

 we knew not at all. Were our eyes and ears so 

 dull, then ? There was the robin, the blue-jay, the 

 bluebird, the yellow-bird, the cherry-bird, the cat-bird, 

 the chipping-bird, the woodpecker, the high-hole, an 

 occasional redbird, and a few others, in the woods, or 

 along their borders, but who ever dreamed that there 

 were still others that not even the hunters saw, and 

 whose names no one had ever heard ? 



