Our acquaintance began when preparing to remove the cook stove to the summer kitchen in May. In winter this kitchen is used as a sort of lumber room, and when clearing it of various odd and ends it was found that a pair of wrens had taken possession of an overshoe and laid the foundation of a home. The pair of overshoes had been tied together and hung on a nail in the wall, about five feet from the floor. Needless to say they were left undisturbed, though not without many doubts of the feasibility of the enterprise, on account of the proximity of the stove. The shoes were the ordinary kind, fleece-lined rubber, and were only a few feet from where the stove would be set. These conditions warranted the expectation of disastrous results from extreme heat--at least so it seemed to me, but my little neighbors thought otherwise, and nest-building progressed rapidly. Being remarkably industrious midgets, the nest of sticks was soon finished and lined with soft feathers from the poultry yard. Wrens are noted for their industry; unless in a very restricted situation the outside dimensions of the nest are enormous when compared with the interior, or cavity. And the twigs that compose the structure are out of all proportion to the size of the architects. I have seen twigs a foot long and half the size of a lead pencil, used in the construction of their nests. That birds so diminutive could carry such burdens in their tiny bills is indeed wonderful. It is said that a single pair have been known to fill a barrel, but no nest quite so mammoth as this has ever come under my observation. To return to the home in the shoes. After the completion of the nest five wee eggs were deposited therein, and incubation began. And in spite of the heat everything went on happily in this unique domicile. We soon became the most sociable friends. Their quaint and charming ways made them very amusing pets. They became so tame that they would approach me fearlessly, even alighting on my head, and would let me examine their nest without being frightened. The wren is a very lively and active bird, and sings incessantly throughout the breeding-season, and these were not an exception, but were forever darting in and out, their actions accompanied by a sweet warble. Mr. Wren would positively quiver all over with delight, while regaling Mrs. Wren and me with his exuberant melody. They were the cheeriest little companions imaginable. Every morning as I entered the kitchen I was greeted heartily by my small neighbors, who bustled about in the preparation of the morning meal as busily as I. Meanwhile Mr. Wren merrily sang his innocent matin song, and spontaneously I would find myself singing too, as I went about my work.