AUTUMN VISITORS. 145 
be answered when birds shall know more of our lan- 
guage, or when we shall better understand the birds. 
I only know that these cheerful good-by songs mean 
glad tidings—they are the harbingers of pleasant, quiet 
days, and leave one with feelings of serene peace and 
joy—they are a sort of rounding out of the summer’s 
blessings, a fuller fruition of the glad promises of spring, 
and help to shorten and bridge over the long period of 
silence that winter brings. 
A short drive distant from the city is a broad though not 
deep ravine, spreading out at the base into a low grassy 
meadow ; through it a limpid stream of water runs, in 
places rippling over pebbly rocks and again forming little 
quiet pools, where the small fish lie and sun themselves 
in the shallow edges. Many large trees are still left 
standing on the sloping banks, while in places are thick 
clumps of bushes, tangled and thickened by running 
vines. No heathen myths are needed to people this 
fair and favored spot, for, as might be expected, it is a 
great resort for the birds, which are our nymphs, naiads, 
and sylvan deities. They come to this little valley early 
in the spring and make it, indeed, a vale of song. Many 
little structures of exquisite workmanship are fashioned 
here in bush and tree, and in hollow stub, or hidden 
away under tussocks of grass, and in them are deposited 
treasures of blue and speckled eggs. In the latter part 
of May, or in early June, if you look, with your heart 
in your eyes, for such gems, you may find, within the 
radius of half a mile, two or more score of these nests, 
and, although you may look in upon them as often as 
