Byram and Ghopal. 



185 



throat at his best, you must invade the 

 dense tangle of an alder swamp, the last 

 refuge of the fugitive, where you can get 

 only mosaic glimpses of blue sky overhead, 

 and can not distinguish a person twenty feet 

 away; where you must pick your way 

 around treacherous bogs, over fallen tree 

 trunks and slippery logs, as you push 

 through the interwoven boughs; where the 

 wild grapevine, the clematis and the rough 

 clinging galium beautify the sturdy alders; 

 where the royal fern, stretching above your 

 waist, flowers in the obscurity. Here, in 

 this secure cover, our little friend seems to 

 lose his timidity, and blossoms out in the 

 full beauty of his nature. We find him 

 singing to himself as he runs over the 

 alder boughs, examining the leaves with 

 the care of a vireo, or clambering down 

 the side of an alder stalk to hunt at its 

 roots. 



Whr-r-ree' - chee-tee, whr-r-ree' - chee-tee, 



whr-r-ree' -chee-tee, the cheery rich song 

 rings through the air, and is echoed from 

 the far-off corners of the swamp. We sit 

 down on an old moss-covered log to eat 

 our lunch, and in answer to my call the 

 sociable little fellow comes nearer and 

 nearer till at last he catches sight of us. 

 With what charming curiosity he peers 

 down at us! What can be his thoughts of 

 these strange intruders as he makes a half 

 circle around us, inspecting us first from 

 one point and then from another! 



A little further along I come upon a 

 father bird who is even more friendly. He 

 is feeding his hungry little ones, going 

 about in a business-like way hunting for 

 food, but still taking time for an occasional 

 warble. He sees me, but goes on with his 

 work, after a casual survey, with the calm- 

 ness of preoccupation, answering my call 

 in a naive, off-hand manner that is very 

 gratifying. 



Florence A. Merriam. 



BYRAM AND GHOPAL. 



WE left our travelers on the outskirts 

 of a town, or rather village, at the 

 end of their day's march. Their destina- 

 tion was of course the Uthak or Caravan- 

 serai, which they had no sooner reached 

 than some of the leading merchants sent in 

 small supplies of food as usual. It must 

 not be supposed that they did this for any 

 Faquir that arrived, but Byram was well 

 known throughout all the land. His 

 father's conduct in cutting off his legs in 

 childhood, to save him from the guilt of 

 trampling on a worm, was regarded as an 

 act of extreme piety, very inconvenient 

 perhaps for Byram, but nevertheless giving 

 him an especial claim upon Heaven and 

 upon the charity of all who wished to 

 stand well with the gods. But this was not 

 all. The majority of Faquirs demand alms 



in somewhat peremptory tones, as debts 

 due to the gods, but Byram had never been 

 known to ask alms. On reaching a town 

 he allowed himself to be carried through 

 the bazaar, where he thankfully acknowl- 

 edged whatever was given him, but if any 

 merchant let him pass without a gift Byram 

 made no comment. 



Beyond all this, Byram had not merely 

 a reputation for great piety and for giving 

 liberally in charity to the necessitous, but 

 he was regarded as a very learned man, 

 familiar with the history of States and Em- 

 pires, with the sacred writings of the Hin- 

 dus, and with the history of Persia, Arabia 

 and other countries; moreover, he was re- 

 nowned for his familiarity with the habits 

 of every living creature, especially of birds 

 and insects, and as he was affable in dis- 



