of an infant fell to him, he brought his
charge to the source of supplies. A farm wagon happened to stand near
the dead tree, and on this the young woodpecker alighted, and stood
humped up and quiet while his parent went to the berries, picked several
for himself, and then proceeded to feed him. This young person was very
circumspect in his behavior. He did not flutter nor cry, in the usual
bird-baby manner, but received his food with perfect composure. Berries,
however, seemed to be new to him, and he did not appear to relish them,
for after tasting two or three he flew away. In spite of this he came
again the next day, and then he flew over to a cluster himself, and
hung, back down, while he ate. He was charming with his sweet low
chatter, and very lovely in plumage, white as snow, with dark markings
clear and soft.

One of the prettiest of our guests was a young chestnut-sided warbler.
He looked much bigger than his papa, as warbler babies often do; but
that is probably because the young bird is not accustomed to his suit of
feathers, and does not know how to manage them. Some of them appear like
a child in his grandfather's coat. The chestnut-sided warbler was
himself an attractive little fellow, with a generous desire to help in
the world's work pleasant to see in bird or man. After becoming greatly
interested in one we had seen in the woods, who insisted on helping a
widowed redstart feed her youngster, and had almost to fight the little
dame to do so, we found another chestnut-sided warbler engaged in
helping his fellows. Whether it were the same bird we could not tell; we
certainly discovered him in the same corner of the woods. This little
fellow was absorbed in the care of an infant more than twice as big as
himself. "A cowbird baby!" will exclaim every one who knows the habit,
shameful from our point of view, of the cowbird, to impose her infants
on her neighbors to hatch and bring up. But this baby, unfortunately for
the "wisdom of the wise," did not resemble the cowbird family.

We saw the strange pair several times in the woods, and then one day, as
I sat at my window trying to write, I heard a new cry, and saw a strange
bird fly to the fence. He was very restless, ran along the top board,
then flew to another fence, scrambled along a few feet, raising and
lowering his tail, and all the time uttering a husky two-note baby-cry.
While I was struggling to keep him in the field of my glass long enough
to not