ould be on the
lookout for a black-cap on that date. Several times during the morning I
thought of the matter, and after my lunch I sauntered into the rockery
just as I had done the year before. Imagine my start when there, in the
very same bush, was the black-cap peering at me; and I found on looking
at my watch that it was precisely the same hour,--half past one! I
rubbed my eyes and pinched myself to make sure it was not a dream. No,
it was all real. Of course, I thought the coincidence very singular, and
talked about it, not only with my family, but also with other people.
You must remember that I had never seen the bird elsewhere.

"Well, another spring came round. The 18th of May was fixed in my mind,
and I thought many times of my black-cap (I called it _my_ black-cap
now), and wondered if it would keep tryst again. On the morning of the
18th, the first thing I thought of when I awoke was my black-cap. That
forenoon I actually felt nervous as the time approached, for I felt a
sort of certainty (you smile) that I should see my bird again. My lunch
was hastier than usual, and I was about to sally forth when it flashed
across me--'Suppose the bird should be there again, who would believe my
story? Hold! I will have a witness.' I called to Mr. J----, who was at
work upstairs, and after explaining what I wanted, invited him to
accompany me. We cautiously entered the rockery, and within a few
minutes there flitted from a neighboring thicket into that very Spiraea
bush my black-cap! I took out my watch. It was just half past one!"

My own experiences in this kind have been much less striking and
dramatic than the foregoing, but I may add that a few years ago I
witnessed the vernal migration in a new piece of country--ten miles or
so from my old field--and found myself at a very considerable
disadvantage. I had never realized till then how much accustomed I had
grown to look for particular birds in particular places, and not in
other places of a quite similar character.

I speak of witnessing a migration; but what we see for the most part
(ducks and geese being excepted) is not the actual movement northward
or southward. We see the stragglers, more or less numerous, that happen
to have dropped out of the procession in our immediate neighborhood,--a
flock of sandpipers about the edge of the pond, some sparrows by the
roadside, a bevy of warblers in the wood,--and from these signs we infer
the passing of the host.

Unl