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 A Sudden Friendship 95 and by a fly came by and lighted near him. He darted at it, missed it, and returned to his perch. He was hungry, and I am given to hospi- taHty where birtls are concerned, so I looked about for proper food. Catching a fly upon the window, I laid it upon the outside of my butter- fly net — always near at hand — and held it up by the long handle, very cautiously and slowly, towards the bird. When it was within his reach I waited, silent and breathless. You bird people know the feeling, that suspense, that mingling of hope and fear, when one is trying to win the shy heart of a bird. I need not have been afraid. He was not; a glance at the fly, then one at me, and he reached out his little bill and took the food. I drew a long breath of relief. Then I repeated the process. Again and again I caught a fly and held it up for my little friend. For he was a friend, even then, though I did not know how close a friend until later. At last, as I was standing at my window watching for another morsel for my guest, there was a flutter of wings, a breath of air on my cheek, and the jewel of a bird, a sapphire surely, was on my shoulder. I scarcely breathed or moved. But, again, I need not have feared. Turning his pretty head, he looked at me with his bright, soft eyes, then touched my cheek with his bill. He was mine; I had won him. Whatever had been his ok! world, his old friends, he had waked up into a new life, and I was a part of it; the best part of it, 1 think, for from that minute he was a friend and lover. In all my life I have never had so close a bird friend; he took food from my hands, he nestled against my cheek and sat upon my shoulder. At first I was very cautious, for fear of frightening him, but I soon found there was no danger. So I held him gentlv in my hand and examined tlie plumage; the blue feathers with ,1 sort of whitish, misty bloom on them, the yellowish patch on the back almost hidtlen until I parted the outer feathers to see it, the creamy breast with just the suggestion of a brownish banti across it, ami the white spots on tail feathers. I am sure few, if any, lovers of birds ever had such oppor- tunity of studying closelv the living Parula. 1 grew bolder as I saw his boldness, and tried little t-xperimt-nts with my new frieiui. I shook him froin my hand, pushed him gently away from me, refused him food or caresses; but he caine back to me, pecked my hands and face, pulled at ni hair with his licak, crept into ni half-shut hand and nestleil there. All that soft, warm afternoon we were together and in closest intimacy. As the sun went down across the Halifax river, but before it had di^appc-ared from sight, the bird was sudiK-nl- missing. For some nu'n- utes I searched for liini in ain. At last I fouiui him. There was a pot of P'nglish Iw on one rnA of ni mantel. n the earth in the flower pot uikKt the siieltiTing i leacs was a little ball of blue down, — ni visitor with his head tucked under his wing, asleep. It was bed-