A Book on Birds 



hunting for it — snug and cozy and beauti- 

 ful — sheltered by a tuft of slender grasses 

 half drawn together at the top like an 

 Indian wigwam; and within its soft and 

 silvery retreat four of the daintiest and 

 rarest of eggs, of finer tint than many 

 pearls, and not so very much larger than 

 some, with delicate markings of five or six 

 shades of brown to add to their beauty. 



We would fain linger a while in dehght at 

 the ^'find/' But there is a mellow, mys- 

 terious call from the shadowy wood just a 

 stone^s throw away and we follow on 

 eagerly. 



And now great oaks again look down upon 

 us, and the lure sounds nearer and brighter 

 and more musical. What can it be? The 

 long days of absence have made us forgetful. 

 Ah, now we have it! There he is on that 

 hemlock just ahead, the Scarlet Tanager — 

 splendid flame of fire against the dusky 

 brown and green — his voice as rich and 

 warm as his matchless carmine vestments, 

 and far less concerned because of us than 

 we have ever known him before. 



[1061 



