THE SECRET OP APPRECIATION. 223 



away. During a visit to Boston and vicinity, a 

 year prior, I spent a never-to-be-forgotten afternoon 

 with Bradford Torrey, who needs no introduction 

 to intelligent readers. We walked out to some of 

 his favorite haunts. It was an ideal October day, 

 and the charming New England landscape threw a 

 spell over me that gave me a kind of other-worldly 

 feeling. My companion was all I had expected him to 

 be, and more, — a good talker and an appreciative 

 listener, — and even now, when I recall my saunter 

 with this quiet, gentle bird-lover, it seems more like 

 a dream than a reality. 



The afternoon had slipped well by when we came 

 to a bush-fringed brook and Mr. Torrey told me that 

 there were swamp- sparrows m the thickets. " How 

 much I should like to see one ! " I cried. " The 

 swamp-sparrow is a stranger to me." " You shall 

 have your wish gratified," he replied; and forthwith 

 he climbed the fence, stalked to the other side of 

 the stream, and slowly, gently drove the chirping 

 sparrows toward me, so that I could see their mark- 

 ings plainly with my glass. How lovingly I ogled 

 them ! I could not get my fill of the birds shown 

 me by one whom I had loved so long at a distance. 

 It was an epoch in my poor life, — an epoch in a 

 double sense. Who will censure my feeling of grati- 

 fied pride? In the evening, after our stroll, as we 

 walked to and fro on the platform at the railway- 

 station waiting for the train to start, I remarked : 

 " Mr. Torrey, I shall never forget my first meeting 

 with the swamp-sparrow." 



