rs discovered it, and this particular bird, to judge from his
actions, must have been a genuine connoisseur; at all events he seemed
to recognize our Boston tree as of a sort not to be met with every day,
although to my less critical sense it was nothing but an ordinary
specimen of the common _Acer dasycarpum_. He was extremely industrious,
as is the custom of his family, and paid no attention to the children
playing about, or to the men who sat under his tree, with the back of
their seat resting against the trunk. As for the children's noise, he
likely enough enjoyed it; for he is a noisy fellow himself and famous as
a drummer. An aged clergyman in Washington told me--in accents half
pathetic, half revengeful--that at a certain time of the year he could
scarcely read his Bible on Sunday mornings, because of the racket which
this woodpecker made hammering on the tin roof overhead.

Another of my acquaintances was of a very different type, a female
Maryland yellow-throat. This lovely creature, a most exquisite, dainty
bit of bird flesh, was in the Garden all by herself on the 6th of
October, when the great majority of her relatives must have been already
well on their way toward the sunny South. She appeared to be perfectly
contented, and allowed me to watch her closely, only scolding mildly now
and then when I became too inquisitive. How I did admire her bravery and
peace of mind; feeding so quietly, with that long, lonesome journey
before her, and the cold weather coming on! No wonder the Great Teacher
pointed his lesson of trust with the injunction, "Behold the fowls of
the air."

A passenger even worse belated than this warbler was a chipping sparrow
that I found hopping about the edge of the Beacon Street Mall on the 6th
of December, seven or eight weeks after all chippers were supposed to be
south of Mason and Dixon's line. Some accident had detained him
doubtless; but he showed no signs of worry or haste, as I walked round
him, scrutinizing every feather, lest he should be some tree sparrow
traveling in disguise.

There is not much to attract birds to the Common in the winter, since we
offer them neither evergreens for shelter nor weed patches for a
granary. I said to one of the gardeners that I thought it a pity, on
this account, that some of the plants, especially the zinnias and
marigolds, were not left to go to seed. A little untidiness, in so good
a cause, could hardly be taken amiss by even the most fastid