238 BESIDE THE GREAT SALT LAKE. 



tanets and other indescribable sounds. His 

 perch was half way down the bush ; his trim 

 olive-drab back and shining golden breast were 

 in their spring glory, and he stood nearly 

 upright as he sang, every moment stretching 

 up to look for the invader behind the leaves. 

 The instant she appeared outside, he vanished 

 within, and I folded my chair and passed on. 

 His disturber had not caught a glimpse of him. 



My next interview with a chat took place a 

 day or two later. Between the cottage which 

 was our temporary home and the next one was a 

 narrow garden bordered by thick hedges, rasp- 

 berry bushes down each side, and a mass of 

 flowering shrubs next the street. From my seat 

 within the house, a little back from the open 

 window, I was startled by the voice of a chat 

 close at hand. Looking cautiously out, I saw 

 him in the garden, foraging about under cover 

 of the bushes, near the ground, and there for 

 some time I watched him. He had not the 

 slightest repose of manner ; the most ill-bred 

 tramp in the English sparrow family was in 

 that respect his superior, and the most nervous 

 and excitable of wrens could not outdo him in 

 posturing, jerking himself up, flirting his tail, 

 and hopping from twig to twig. When musi- 

 cally inclined, he perched on the inner side of 

 the bushes against the front fence, a foot or two 



