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ings exactly a miniature of the old birds. On the floor it struggled 

 about helplessly, but when put near the window curtain it would climb 

 quite rapidly with outspread and fluttering wings. The parent birds on 

 returning and finding the nest fallen and the family scattered did not 

 make as much commotion as most other birds would do under 

 like circumstances. Such accidents are said to be a matter of common 

 occurrence with them, especially in rainy weather when the water trick- 

 ling down softens the gum which holds the nest to the wall. I replaced 

 the third nestling in the chimney, and after he had crept up a little dis- 

 tance, one of the old ones came down and, putting its head under the 

 angle of the outstretched wing of the little one, helped it up to the 

 ledge above, on which the nest had formerly stood, and where all 

 three seemed now much more comfortable than when crowded together 

 in the nest. 



I had hoped that after the fall of the nest the young would 

 remain below where, having a better view of them, I should be able to 

 see the process of feeding more plamly. On the contrary, I saw but 

 little of them from this out, as they were continually moving 

 from place to place and only one mirror could be brought to bear on 

 them. They soon grew so large as to be almost undistinguishable from 

 the parents, though they did not yet attempt flight in the outer air 

 On the 14th and 15th of August, however, I noticed them mounting on 

 the wing toward the top of the flue and then settling down again. Per- 

 haps this is their usual manner of learning to fly. Unable as they are 

 to rise from a flat surface, a first lesson in the open air, which would 

 probably result in a fall to the ground, might prove disastrous, or even 

 fatal, to them. 



About this time the numbers resorting to the tower were rapidly 

 increasing again, showing that the nesting season was almost over. On 

 the 19th of August I was called away from town, and on my return at 

 the end of the month my little visitors had disappeared. Even at the 

 rendezvous of the tower only a few remained, and these soon followed 

 the main army to its winter quarters. 



Where do they go when they leave us ? 



A poet tells us that when these northern shores become bleak and 

 stormy : -^n~^'^- 



