52 PEARLS AND PEBBLES. 



old lady." And the old lady looks up, and nods a hearty 

 welcome to the tiny brown birds. 



It is now more than twenty years since a pair of 

 these little wrens came and took possession of that 

 corner of the veranda, just where the angle of the 

 rafters meet the roof — a dark, snug little place. There, 

 year after year, every May, a pair return to the old spot. 



It can hardly be the same old couple, or even their 

 children or grandchildren, that are such constant visitors, 

 never at a loss, but coming at once to the old corner, 

 where, after a few days' rest, they commence to build a 

 rudely -constructed nest of birch twigs ; no moss, nor 

 hair nor any soft materials are employed for the cradles 

 of the tiny little brood. 



What brings these tiny birds back to the old summer 

 haunts ? Is it memory ? Or is it that unerring, mys- 

 terious power that we term Instinct, which, acting 

 like an irresistible impulse, guides them the right way, 

 straight to the harbor where they would be ? 



Is it this that draws the fledglings of last year back to 

 the nest in which they were reared, to re-enact the life 

 and habits of the parent-birds of the particular species of 

 the wren family to which they especially belong? We 

 know not. 



For the first week after they arrive the wrens do 

 nothing but flit gaily about, making high holiday with 

 merry songs before they settle down to work in good 

 earnest. 



