BIRDS'-NESTS 113 



tone that rang in the ear long afterward. The nest 

 was suspended to the fork of a small branch, as is 

 usual with the vireos, plentifully lined with lichens, 

 and bound and rebound with masses of coarse spider- 

 webs. There was no attempt at concealment except 

 in the neutral tints, which made it look like a 

 natural growth of the dim, gray woods. 



Continuing my random walk, I next paused in a 

 low part of the woods, where the larger trees began 

 to give place to a thick second-growth that covered 

 an old Barkpeeling. I was standing by a large 

 maple, when a small bird darted quickly away from 

 it, as if it might have come out of a hole near its 

 base. As the bird paused a few yards from me, 

 and began to chirp uneasily, my curiosity was at 

 once excited. When I saw it was the female 

 mourning ground warbler, and remembered that the 

 nest of this bird had not yet been seen by any 

 naturalist, — that not even Dr. Brewer had ever 

 seen the eggs, — I felt that here was something 

 worth looking for. So I carefully began the search, 

 exploring inch by inch the ground, the base and 

 roots of the tree, and the various shrubby growths 

 about it, till, finding nothing and fearing I might 

 really put my" foot in it, I bethought me to with- 

 draw to a distance and after some delay return 

 again, and, thus forewarned, note the exact point 

 from which the bird flew. This I did, and, re- 

 turning, had little difficulty in discovering the nest. 

 It was placed but a few feet from the maple-tree, 

 in a bunch of ferns, and about six inches from the 



