The above species is restricted to Eastern North America. It ranges from the Atlantic westward to the Missouri, and from Massachusetts to Florida. On our western shores, and in the Middle Provinces of the United States, a closely-allied form takes its place. In Maine and New Hampshire it is notably absent, but in Massachusetts and Vermont and thence southward through New England, where suitable localities exist, it is more or less common. Austin F. Park, of Troy, N. Y., gives it a common breeder in that locality, and the same may be affirmed, on the authority of Rathbun, to be the case in the central portions of the State. In Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Delaware we have found it most abundant during the nesting season. Throughout the Southern States some remain to breed, but the greater number go northward for this purpose. Ridgway states it to be an occasional resident, at least, in the southern counties of Illinois, but farther north a summer sojourner. In the vicinity of Cincinnati, according to Langdon, it seems to be merely a vernal migrant, but possibly spends its summer in the northern counties of Ohio, or in Michigan and Wisconsin. It cannot be denied admission to Minnesota, as is clearly proved by ornithologists from that section. Its occurrences have been noted in Kansas and Colorado by various parties, but it is likely that such references may be set down to the Tule Wren.

The Long-bill spends the winter on our southern border and southward, and only takes up its migratory course when the weather has settled into the blandishments of spring. The grand movement commences about the first week of April, and it is not long before the birds have spread themselves over the country. They reach the Potomac about the middle of the month, Pennsylvania towards the close, and New England about the first of May. When the season is forward, individuals are often met with in the latitude of Philadelphia and Central New York early in April.

Upon its arrival it seeks inland swamps, or the brackish marshes of the seashore, where, amid the splatterdocks of the former, and reeds of the latter, it finds suitable shelter. Here day in and day out, during their entire stay, these birds pursue the even tenor of their lives, happy and contented, never caring, like many of their remoter kin, for the charmed circle of man. Active, energetic and buoyant with life and hope, they skip about the tall, rank vegetation, in every conceivable direction, in quest of insects. Their food consists of grasshoppers, small aquatic grubs, and such like, which they capture with considerable dexterity. If you should be unconsciously led to the favorite haunts of the species, you at once become aware of its presence by the lively, chattering song which emanates from within, and, ere long, you are repaid, if you take any special pains to insinuate yourself within the reeds, by a sight of the quaint, little creature, as he dodges, like some grotesque apparition, in and out among the interlacing grasses. This song, which has been compared by Wilson to a low crackling sound, somewhat analogous to air bubbles forcing their way through boggy ground, and by Audubon, to the grating noise of a rusty hinge, is most difficult of expression. It resembles more nearly the sounds of an insect than those of a bird, and is a low, harsh cry, lacking both harmony and force of expression.

As these birds reach their breeding-grounds early in May, and instantly repair to nest-building, it is safe to assume that mating had been celebrated in their far-off southern homes, or is a matter that is entered into with but little show or affectation. Frequent visits to their haunts, at such times when one would expect to gain information on this point, have always been rewarded by seeing the busy creatures at work upon their nest. Their early movements are so secret and mysterious, that we hardly know anything of their presence except when they are colonized for the summer.

The labor of building is entered into with considerable alacrity, and is mainly the result of the combined action of both birds, for a period of five or six days. The exact time is hard to estimate, and is dependent upon the character of the structure, position, and the industry and patience of the architects. When the nest is placed horizontally upon the ground in the midst of a clump of sedges, it is loosely constructed, and costs but three days of steady workmanship. But when elevated to the tops of tussocks, or to the branches of shrubs and trees, where more compactness and finish are necessary, the time is essentially protracted. The disposition to nest in trees and bushes, which is now a prominent feature of the species, looks, at first sight, as if there would be, at an early day, an abandonment of old sites, and the taking on of new relations. While the species has thus gained a great advantage in lifting up its nest beyond the power of the waters to do it harm, it has, by selecting such growths in close contiguity to marshes, shown its predilection for such places, by reason of the facilities which they afford for food-detection.

Brewer describes the nest as being placed in low bushes, at a height of but a few feet from the ground. This is true in certain localities, but where there is a scarcity of such growths, as is the case where salt-water marshes abound, then the birds are compelled to resort to the sedges. In Atlantic County, N. J., in the summer of 1874, as many as fifty nests were seen and examined thus built, in less than an acre of ground. The same distinguished writer, in speaking of their composition, says "they are made externally of coarse sedges firmly interwoven, the interstices being cemented with clay or mud." And further, that the upper side of the entrance is "protected from the rain by a projecting edge." This may be true in certain places, but careful examinations of a score of nests from as many localities, remotely situated from each other, fail to show the existence of argillaceous or other elements, much less the trace of anything that might be exaggerated into a roof. Audubon describes it as being built among sedges, and as usually constructed in part of the sedges among which it is placed, a fact which we have repeatedly confirmed. Usually, when built along the margins of streams, or by the seashore, the nests are placed from two to two and a half feet high, so as to be beyond the reach of ordinary tides. Again, nidification commences at a time when there is little danger to be apprehended. But should there be an extraordinary rise of waters, and their home be destroyed, then like true Trojans, when the tide has subsided, they set zealously to work, and repair the damage. If irreparable, they succumb to fate, or rear their domicile anew. In selecting such a site for purposes of nesting, they must run the risk of having it submerged or demolished, but the chances against such a catastrophe's occurring, are numerous. These nests of ours, we are convinced, can withstand the beatings of a summer shower, as well as any whose walls are mud-cemented.

While some birds excel in singing, others are differently gifted, and show talents as peculiar and remarkable. Such is the case with the subject of our sketch. Denied the power of song, he has developed his faculties in the direction of architecture, not the least interesting part of his history being his curious habit of nidification. For convenience, comfort and durability his nest has few equals. It is a large bulky affair, in shape resembling a cocoanut, and is composed of the tops of coarse reeds and grasses woven together. This globe-like, hollow body is secured to the upright stems of the growing reeds, several of which usually pass through its substance, and supports a little hole on the side, which looks forward and down into a cosy chamber, that is well lined with finer leaves of grasses, the dermis of weeds, and a mixture of soft feathers and wool. In many specimens which we have met with from time to time, the opening is nearly concealed by the enveloping grasses, which seem to be purposely arranged with this object in view. Preparatory to entering the nest, the' stalks are thrust aside, and are as carefully readjusted when the bird is once there. On retiring, the same movements are necessary. The flexibility of the grass aids the birds very materially in these operations.

While most of the nests we have examined correspond in the main with the above description, we have occasionally met with some which constituted a noteworthy exception. These structures bear a close resemblance to those of the Maryland Yellow-throat in configuration, being nearly oven-shaped. In these cases the openings were large, about two inches in diameter, and occupied the anterior aspect. The materials of composition differed but little, on the outside, from those which are generally found in the typical nest, but, within, they consisted of fine grasses and silk-like threads of vegetable origin. This nest was placed on the ground.

The most beautiful nest which we have ever seen was obtained in the summer of 1878, in the vicinity of Philadelphia, by Isaac Reiff, Esq. It was placed upon a willow branch, at the height of about fifteen feet from the ground, and was newly built. In shape it was nearly globular, four and a half by five inches in the two diameters, and was woven of the broad leaves of a species of scirpus, closely and evenly, and had the interstices seamed with brownish down. The opening was hung with a thin, delicate curtain of gauze, of the same material, which was continued within, forming a thick bedding of the softest texture, of which the most voluptuous sybarite might envy its fortunate possessor. In shape and composition the nests which are found on bushes, bear a striking resemblance to the one just described, but usually lack its neat and elegant finish.

The number of structures that may sometimes be seen in a small stretch of marshy ground, within a few paces of each other, is so astounding, and apparently so disproportionate to the size of the community inhabiting it, as to lead to the suspicion that more nests are constructed than are really needed, the idea being that the nervous, energetic males keep up building operations while the females are incubating, as a sort of pastime, or because they have nothing else to do, and must have some employment for their excessive animal spirits. However this may be, the old nests remain intact a year or so before they crumble to pieces, which doubtless will, in a measure, account for the large numbers that are often to be seen.

The nest having been completed, a few days are allowed for drying before the female essays to deposit her chocolate-colored treasures, some six to nine in number. A day is allowed for each egg, usually, but we have found nests which showed that more than one had been laid on some days, but these were exceptional cases. The female is the first to incubate. When tired of the duty, she summons her companion, who is never far away, and resigns the care to him, while she strays off to a short distance for food and recreation. At such times, the males are exceedingly pugnacious, and will not allow any trespassers. The females, on the contrary, are less demonstrative. After fourteen days of close sitting and vigilance, the young appear, and need the most assiduous attentions. And such they receive. Few parents are more devoted. From early morning until night, the one or the other is on the go, in quest of some juicy morsel of insect-food for their keen appetites. And what is their reward? In a fortnight, a whole nest-full of bright, rollicking and chirping children. Proud of their charges, they still continue to care for them a week longer, when they lead them one by one out of the nursery, and introduce them to the world. The young are now old enough to encounter the dangers and trials of life, while the parents not contented with having successfully raised one family, after a brief season of repose, depart to a spot close-by, where they immediately rear another domicile, which they people as before. This occurs late in June, or early in July.

The eggs of this Wren are oval in shape; occasionally, spheroidal. They are generally marked, quite profusely, with blotches of deep chocolate-brown, so as to present an almost uniform appearance. Sometimes, a darker area is seen at the larger extremity, or around it. Again, specimens are met with which display a whitish ground, thickly dotted with chocolate, or a nearly uniform brownish-white surface, with a few of the characteristic blotches remaining, as if the color had been washed out. The average length of a set of nine before us is .65 inches, and average breadth .50, It is quite common to find a very large number of eggs, diminutive specimens, called "runt" eggs, which measure only .53 by .46.