The bank swallow or sand martin is the cosmopolitan of birds, as it thrives equally well in Asia, Africa, Europe and America. Of all the swallows none is a greater favorite than the purple martin. It was doubtless the bird to which Shakespeare alludes when he says, “Where the temple haunting martlet breeds the air is delicate.” The purple martin, in iridescent coat, with soft, musical cry of “Peuo-peuo-peuo,” is a well protected guest, provided with pretty boxes for homes on tall poles or nailed to the sides of trees. It is a courageous bird, defending its home and young against any ruthless invader. There is an old true saying that “one swallow does not make a summer.” Yet its advent is looked for as the harbinger of warm weather. “Birds teach us as they come and go When to sail and when to sow. Cuckoo calling from the hill, Swallow skimming by the mill. Mark the seasons, map the year, As they show and disappear.” Belle Paxson Drury. THE WORM-EATING WARBLER. (_Helmitherus vermivorus._) The Worm-eating Warbler is much more retiring and less often noticed than most of the species of warblers. Unlike many of the species its range does not reach to the northern coniferous forests. Passing the winter in the countries bordering the Gulf of Mexico, it migrates in the spring throughout the Eastern United States, breeding as far north as Illinois and Connecticut. Its dull color and retiring and shy disposition eminently fit it for its chosen hunting grounds—the deep and thick woods, bordering ravines, where there is an abundant undergrowth of shrubs. Though preferring such localities, it is occasionally seen in rather open places. Its companion in the woods is the golden-crowned thrush, for which it might easily be mistaken were it not for the absence of streaks on its breast. Its song closely resembles that of the chipping sparrow and may even mislead the trained field ornithologist. As it deliberately hunts for insects among the dry leaves on the ground or on the lower branches of shrubs, its slow motions are more like those of the vireo than of a warbler. While walking through woods frequented by this rare little warbler the experiences of Mr. Leander Keyser is that of all who have had the pleasure of meeting it among the trees. He says: “Suddenly there was a twinkle of wings, a flash of olive-green, a sharp chirp, and then before me, a few rods away, a little bird went hopping about on the ground, picking up dainties from the brown leaves. It was a rare Worm-eating Warbler. The little charmer was quite wary, chirping nervously while I ogled him—for it was a male—and then hopped up into a sapling and finally scurried away out of sight.”