little stream that was called a river, and dignified
with a river's name, yet rippled and babbled, and conducted itself
precisely like a brook.

The Glen, as it was called, was a unique possession for a common
work-a-day village in the midst of a good farming country. Long ago
would its stately trees have been destroyed, its streamlet set to
turning wheels, and Nature forced to express herself on those many
acres, in corn and potatoes, instead of her own graceful and varied
selection of greenery; or, mayhap, its underbrush cut out, its slopes
sodded, its springs buried in pipes and put to use, and the whole
"improved" into dull insipidity,--all this, but for the will of one man
who held the title to the grounds, and rated it so highly, that, though
willing to sell, no one could come up to his terms. Happy delusion! that
blessed the whole neighborhood with an enchanting bit of nature
untouched by art. Long may he live to keep the deeds in his possession,
and the grounds in their own wild beauty.

The place was surrounded by bristling barbed fences, and trespassers
were pointedly warned off, so when one had paid for the privilege, and
entered the grounds, he was supposed to be safe from intrusion, except
of others who had also bought the right. The part easily accessible to
hotel and railroad station was the scene of constant picnics, for which
the State is famous, but that portion which lay near my place of study
was usually left to the lonely kingfisher--and the cows. There the shy
wood dwellers set up their households, and many familiar upland birds
came with their fledglings; that was the land of promise for
bird-lovers, and there one of them decided to study.

We began with the most virtuous resolves. We would come at five o'clock
in the morning; we would catch the birds at their breakfast. We did; it
was a lovely morning after a heavy rain, on which we set out to explore
the ravine for birds. The storm in passing had taken the breeze with it,
and not a twig had stirred since. Every leaf and grass blade was loaded
with rain-drops. Walking in the grass was like wading in a stream; to
touch a bush was to evoke a shower. But though our shoes were wet
through, and our garments well sprinkled, before we reached the barbed
fence, over or under or through or around which we must pass to our
goal, we would not be discouraged; we went on.

As to the fence, let me, in passing, give my fellow drapery-bearers a
hint. Carry a