24 IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 



alas ! a passing meadow-lark filled all the grove 

 with his wonderful song. 



And there was the wren ! He interested me 

 from the first ; for a wren is a bird of individu- 

 ality always, and his voice reminded me, in a 

 feeble way, of the witching notes of the winter 

 wren, the 



1 ' Brown wren from out whose swelling' throat 

 Unstinted joys of music float." 



This bird was the house wren, the humblest 

 member of his musical family; but there was 

 in his simple melody the wren quality, suggest- 

 ive of the thrilling performances of his more 

 gifted relatives ; and I found it and him very 

 pleasing. 



The chosen place for his vocal display was a 

 pile of brush beside a closed-up little cottage, 

 and I suspected him of having designs upon 

 that two-roomed mansion for nesting purposes. 

 After hopping all about the loose sticks, deliver- 

 ing his bit of an aria a dozen times or more, in 

 a most rapturous way, he would suddenly dive 

 into certain secret passages among the dead 

 branches, when he was instantly lost to sight. 

 Then, in a few seconds, a close watcher might 

 sometimes see him pass like a shadow, under the 

 cottage, which stood up on corner posts, dart 

 out the farther side, and fly at once to the eaves. 



One day I was drawn from the house by a 



