Next perhaps in fussiness to a redeyed vireo may be counted the phœbe; and there does not appear to be quite so much reason for the phœbe’s unhappy frame of mind, for on the whole their nests seem rather safer than those of most birds, built as they so often are in sheltered places about the houses and barns. But though the nests escape the young phœbes are very liable to come to grief, and their elders nearly wear themselves out when the young first leave the nest, which they often choose to do on a very stormy day. Phœbes are pugnacious, too, and carry on feuds among themselves year after year, those on the east side of the house always quarreling with those on the west side, and when they first come back in the spring there are frequent conflicts, noisily carried on in midair, which continue at intervals until both parties are too busy with their nests and young to attend to other things, though even then, if an idle moment occurs, they promptly take advantage of it to have a brush with each other. There never seems to be any particular advantage gained on either side; so dismal as they seem about it all they no doubt rather enjoy the excitement afforded by these little interludes. Young phœbes show none of these aggressive qualities, and have the most gentle and attractive manners and a peculiar air of innocence that is most captivating. If the parent phœbe brings up an insect all the nestlings, who may be sitting in a row on a branch, wave their soft wings and squeak. The parent inspects them for a moment and then feeds one. The instant the old bird has decided which shall be fed the rest subside and wait quietly until her return. There is no pushing and crowding or following the parent. The slate colored junco is another of the essentially cheerful spirits, yet has a remarkable sedateness and self-possession, such as one is sometimes surprised to find in people of particularly quiet and gentle dispositions. And he has one habit that has made him very dear, for he always appears in the fall and remains until quite late in the season. During this time he haunts the evergreen trees in front of the house, coming back there every evening to sleep or to seek shelter from a storm, announcing his arrival with low twitterings and restless games of play. If one goes under the evergreens after dark and gently shakes a branch there will be a slight fluttering of wings and disturbed sleepy notes from the juncos. They love to feed in the drive which runs in front of the house and in the thickets of rose bushes that creep up to the windows, coming close to the veranda and eating any crumbs that are thrown out for them, and even on the wettest day looking trim and contented and bringing with them a sense of companionship which can be only appreciated by those who have lived much alone, when the different creatures come to be better known than they can be where there are people constantly distracting the attention.