The Townsend’s Warbler is a native of Western North America, especially near the Pacific coast. Its range extends from Sitka on the north to Central America on the south, where it appears during the winter. In its migration it wanders as far east as Colorado. It breeds from the southern border of the United States northward, nesting in regions of cone-bearing trees. It is said that the nest of this Warbler is usually placed at a considerable height, though at times as low as from five to fifteen feet from the ground. The nest is built of strips of fibrous bark, twigs, long grasses and wool, compactly woven together. This is lined with hair, vegetable down and feathers. The eggs are described as buffy white, speckled and spotted with reddish brown and lilac-gray, about three-fifths of an inch in length by about one-half of an inch in diameter. THE STORY OF SOME BLACK BUGS. We were going to visit Aunt Bessie, and John and I like few things better than that. To begin with, she lives in the country, and there is always so much to do in the way of fun that the days never seem half long enough. Then, besides, Aunt Bessie knows everything, and can tell such famous stories. So when she asked us one morning to go to the pond with her and see something interesting, you may be sure we were not slow in following her. The rushes grew thickly along the sides, but the water was clear, and we could plainly see the black bugs she pointed out to us crawling, slowly and clumsily, over the muddy bottom. “Those things!” said John, not a little disgusted. “I don’t think they are much. Are they tadpoles?” “Tadpoles!” I echoed. “Why, whoever saw tadpoles with six legs and no tail?” “The absence of a tail is very convincing,” laughed Aunt Bessie. “They are certainly not tadpoles. Now watch them closely, please, and tell me all about them.” “They are abominably ugly. That is one thing,” broke in John. “They look black, and have six legs. But how funny their skin is. More like a crust, or lots of crusts laid one on the other. They are about the stupidest things I ever saw. They seem to do nothing but crawl over that mud and—Hello! they aren’t so stupid, after all. Did you see that fellow snatch a poor fly and gobble him up quicker than you could say Jack Robinson? And there’s another taken a mosquito just as quick. I’ll take back what I said about the slow business. But really, Auntie, do you think them very interesting?” “I’ll ask you that question when you have learned something more about them,” was her answer. “Tell me now what you think of that Dragon-fly darting over the water?” “Oh, he is a beauty,” we answered in a breath. “But please let us hear something about those things down there.” “Not to-day, boys. I wish you to see something for yourselves first. Watch here for a few days and your patience will be rewarded, I promise you. Then I will have a story to tell you.”