II. 



A WET DAT WITH THE BIRDS. 



DOWN in Virginia I was once delayed four hours at a little railway 

 junction right in the woods. It was June, and so ought to have 

 been sunny, but, on the contrary, the air was chilly, the sky was covered 

 with heavy clouds, and now and then came dashes of cold rain. This 

 is by no means the sort of weather birds feel gay in, and when they are 

 chilly and blue, they are no more likely to sing with spirit and move in 

 a sprightly way than are we ourselves. Certainly it was a poor day for 

 ornithology, but I started down the track to see what I could find, and 

 discovered a few of this race of my country cousins abroad. 



The first one I met was a yellow warbler, showing his salmon-striped 

 vest very plainly, but keeping very quiet. Then I struck a bunch of 

 sparrows, which are always great favorites of mine. There were two or 

 three song-sparrows and half a dozen chippies, or hair-birds, as they are 

 sometimes called in New England because they use so much horse-hair in 

 building their nests. The chippies kept down near the ground, running 

 through the grass, and in and out between the mossy rails of the fence, 

 but the favorite perch of the song-sparrows was high up on the telegraph 

 wires. I watched one a long time. He sat there right through a shower, 

 and fairly spouted his short but most musical song, the black patch on his 

 spotted breast (by which you may always know him from the other 

 streaked sparrows) rising and falling as he sang in a way plainly visible 

 to me as I stood down on the rails. His ditty, often repeated, was pre- 

 cisely the same every time, except in the introductory chatter, which was 

 cut short now and then, as though he couldn't wait to give the prelude 

 before letting you hear the varied notes to follow. Some other song- 

 sparrows not far away sang in a decidedly different way from him, though 

 evidently attempting the same tune ; and I should say there was as much 

 variety in their voices as among the girls and boys in a school-room. 



Every now and then the sparrows would fly down into the brush and 

 grape-vines between the track and the fence, and stay a little while, prob- 



