THE BANNER ON THE WALLS. 3 



ing their ease on the fence as if no thought of 

 nesting ever stirred their wise little heads. The 

 last addition to the domicile was curious : a soft 

 white feather from the poultry yard, which was 

 fastened up on the edge, and stood there floating 

 in the breeze; a white banner of peace flung 

 out to the world from her castle walls. 



Peace from a kingbird? Direful tales are 

 told of this bird: u he is pugnacious," says one 

 writer; "he fights everybody," adds another; 

 "he is a coward," remarks a third. Science 

 has dubbed him tyrant (Tyranms), and his char- 

 acter is supposed to be settled. But may there 

 not be two sides to the story? We shall see. 

 One kingbird, at least, shall be studied sympa- 

 thetically; we shall try to enter his life, to 

 judge him fairly, and shall above all 



" bring not 



The fancies found in books, 

 Leave author's eyes, and fetch our own." 



Nearly two months that small dwelling on the 

 oak was watched, day after day, early and late, 

 in storm and in sunshine ; now I know at least 

 one family of kingbirds, and what I know I shall 

 honestly tell, "nothing extenuating." 



The house was built, the season was passing, 

 yet housekeeping did not begin. The birds, in- 

 deed, appeared to have abandoned the tree, and 

 days went by in which I could not see that either 



