ing nature in phcebe. Perhaps such close and con- 

 tinued association would show like qualities in every 

 bird, even in the kingbird. But I fear only a woman, 

 like Mrs. Olive Thorne Miller, could find them in him. 

 Not much can be said of this flycatcher family, ex- 

 cept that it is useful, — a kind of virtue that gets its 

 chief reward in heaven. I am acquainted with only 

 four of the other nine members, — great-crest, king- 

 bird, pewee, and chebec, — -and each of these has 

 some redeeming attributes besides the habit of catch- 

 ing flies. 



They are all good nest-builders, good parents, and 

 brave, independent birds ; but aside from phoebe and 

 pewee — the latter in his small way the sweetest 

 voice of the oak woods — the whole family is an odd 

 lot, cross-grained, cross-looking, and about as musical 

 as a family of ducks. A duck seems to know that 

 he cannot sing. A flycatcher knows nothing of any 

 shortcoming. He knows he can sing, and in time 

 he will prove it. If desire and effort count for any- 

 thing, he certainly must prove it in time. How long 

 the family has already been training, no one knows. 

 Everybody knows, however, the success each fly- 

 catcher of them has thus far attained. According to 



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