BIRD PARADISE 157 



Five or six species of the warblers nest in our 

 hill country. They are aU lively fellows, and 

 some way practice a kind of friendship that is 

 most enjoyable. Occasionally I take a free and 

 easy saunter through the aisles of Bird Paradise. 

 While there I am quite apt to be a " boy again," 

 just for the fun of a real, old-time frolic. The 

 other day I went far down the ravine, and when 

 down lay down on the bed of leaves, and without 

 an effort on my part passed into the cozy rooms 

 of the "house beautiful," that cheery temple of 

 genuine, whole-souled boyhood. The greatcanopy 

 of rustling leaves, woven in the wondrous loom of 

 life, the same as in the years agone, and darting 

 hither and thither, were the warblers — each one 

 I thought shouting an "all hail" to the boy far 

 below. I wondered at the readiness with which 

 they went to and fro in the highways of Bird 

 Paradise. Work and pleasure were combined in 

 all their movements, in fact, they really appeared 

 as though they were doing their best in entertain- 

 ing their old-time guest. Somehow a single 

 member of this large family came a little nearer 

 to me than any of the others. Earlier in the 

 season I had interviewed the little redstart, who 

 had put his nest in a small tree, a few feet from 



