An Old-fashioned Garden 135 



on the ground, as if a rat ran by. It proved 

 to be an oven-bird, that curious combination 

 of thrush and sand-piper, and yet neither, 

 but a true warbler. It peered into every 

 nook and corner of the shrubbery, poised on 

 the edge of the sunken lotus-tub, caught a 

 wriggling worm that came to the surface of 

 the water, then teetered along the fence and 

 was gone. Soon it returned, and came and 

 went until dark, as much at home as ever in 

 the deep recesses of unfrequented woods. 

 As the sun went down, the bird sang once 

 with all the spring-tide ardor, and brought 

 swiftly back to me many a long summer's 

 day ramble in the country. It is something 

 to be miles away from home while sitting on 

 your own door-step. 



Twice a song-sparrow came, bathed in 

 the lotus-tub, and, when not foraging in the 

 weedy corners, sang its old-fashioned song, 

 now so seldom heard within town limits. 

 The bird gave me two valuable hints as to 

 garden management. Water is a necessity 

 to birds as well as to any other form of life, 

 and shelter is something more than a mere 

 attraction. Was it not because the birds 

 happened to be provided with them to-day 



