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i92 Bird -Lore seemed to be no favorite spot for the dance, as it apparently took place wherever the two birds happened to meet, which was most frequently on the front lawn. Roger appeared to be ready for a dance always, and as soon as lady White Wings would fly over the fence, and light on the ground, he would very soon be seen to join her, and taking a position in front of her, about three feet away, the two would instantly stretch their little bodies and necks to their greatest length, and with heads well thrown up, tails uplifted and wings drooping, they would stand perfectly still a second or two and admire each other. Then the dance would begin — and this consisted of the two hopping sideways in the same direction and in a rather straight line, a few inches at a time, always keeping directly opposite each other, and about the same distance apart. They would chassez this way four or five feet, then go back over the same line in the same manner. Often this chassez would be repeated five or six times, the birds always keeping in the same erect position. Once, I saw the female dart off to catch a particularly tempting miller, and swallow it as she hurriedly returned to her position in the dance. Roger, in the meantime, had stood perfectly rigid. One morn- ing I happened to discover these two birds dancing on one of our verandas, and near the steps where there was a thick door-mat. In some way, Roger got on a line with the mat, and this he did not like, for, on his return, he hopped back a little to avoid it. This brought him up against the rocker of a settee at the other end of the chassez, but, instead of going back from this, as he had gone from the mat, he flew up on the seat of the settee, and was continuing the dance there, when White Wings flew away — evidently disgusted with such unusual performances of her partner. I was within a few feet of these birds at the time — just back of a screen door — and could see every turn of their eyes, and hear the scratching of their toe-nails as they hopped. Beyond this little noise of the feet, not a sound was to be heard. When the nesting season came, and these birds left us, the grounds seemed very lonely, and I was exceedingly glad then that I had persevered and finally succeeded in getting a few photographs of my favorite bird — Sir Roger de Coverley.