The Patace in the (Pig-pen 
ing nature in phoebe. Perhaps such close and con- 
tinued association would show like qualities in every 
bird, even in the kingbird. But I fear only a woman, 
like Mrs, Olive Thorne Miller, could find them in him. 
Not much can be said of this flycatcher family, ex- 
cept that it is useful, —a kind of virtue that gets its 
chief reward in heaven. I am acquainted with only 
four of the other nine members, — great-crest, king- 
bird, pewee, and chebec,— and each of these has 
some redeeming attributes besides the habit of catch- 
ing flies. 
They are all good nest-builders, good parents, and 
brave, independent birds; but aside from phoebe and 
pewee — the latter in his small way the sweetest 
voice of the oak woods — the whole family is an odd 
lot, cross-grained, cross-looking, and about as musical 
as a family of ducks. A duck seems to know that 
he cannot sing. A flycatcher knows nothing of any 
shortcoming. He knows he can sing, and in time 
he will prove it. If desire and effort count for any- 
thing, he certainly must prove it in time. How long 
the family has already been training, no one knows. 
Everybody knows, however, the success each fly- 
catcher of them has thus far attained. According to 
169 
