“Why, yes, you remember old Uncle Baskett, the colored doctor?” “Yes,” said Margaret. “He cured toothache by hanging a rabbit’s foot about your neck.” “And fits with a four-leafed clover,” cried Gracie. “He made his living,” went on papa, “after he was freed, by collecting the roots of Ginseng, Calamus and other medicinal plants, and it was then, too, he gained his almost marvelous knowledge of herbs, becoming famous, even among the white people, for his success in curing certain diseases.” “I think this leaf and root are accurate,” said the artist presenting the sketch. “To a ‘T,’” cried the children. “You must go with us every walk we take.” Sallie Margaret O’Malley. Gaunt shadows stretch along the hill; Cold clouds drift slowly west; Soft flocks of vagrant snow flakes fill The redwing’s empty nest. —Thomas Bailey Aldrich, “Landscape.” THE CAROLINA WREN. (_Thryothorus ludovicianus._) This little brown bird is sufficiently hardy to remain throughout the year a resident of the localities which it frequents. This is true except in the northern part of its range, which covers the eastern United States as far north as the states of Wisconsin and Connecticut. The Carolina Wren does not enjoy the society of men and unlike its relative, the house wren, does not seek “the cozy nooks and corners about the house of man,” but rather the distant shrubbery and the forest. Here it hides and is more often heard than seen. In spite of this show of timidity it is not so shy and retiring as it would seem. It loves the privacy and seclusion of the forest yet it will frequently visit the garden and explore outhouses. “If we attempt to penetrate its hidden resorts” it hurries away into deeper recesses with a low fluttering near the ground, or scrambling and hopping from one bush to another, very likely mocking us with its rollicking song as soon as it feels perfectly secure. It is restless and curious like the other wrens. Perhaps it is even more inquisitive than its sister species, for it is certainly more active. Frightened from a favorite perch the Carolina Wren will return and, from a safe cover of foliage, slyly examine the cause that disturbed it, “peering from among the leaves with an inquisitive air, all the while teetering its body and performing odd nervous antics as if it were possessed with the very spirit of unrest.” When disturbed it seems to challenge the intruder with a chattering note that has a harsh and decidedly querulous tone. It seems almost incredible that such a delicate and sprightly being should exhibit so much temper and resentment. Intrusion of its chosen territory by its own kind is resented even more vehemently.