to bushes, or on an uncleared surface. It is formed with great neatness of dry 

 blades of grass, and lined with the same; it is then surmounted by a thick inclined 

 roof of similar materials, the surface scattered with leaves and twigs, so as 

 to match the rest of the ground, and an entrance is left at the side. The eggs, 

 four or five in number, are white, irregularly spotted near the greater end with 

 reddish-brown. When surprised the bird escapes or runs from the nest with 

 the silence and celerity of a mouse. If an attempt be made to discover the nest 

 from which she is flushed, she stops, flutters and pretends lameness, and, watch- 

 ing the success of the maneuver, at length when the decoy seems complete she 

 takes to wing and disappears. 



The Oven-bird is another of the foster parents sometimes chosen by the 

 Cowbird ; she rears the foundling with her accustomed care and affection, and 

 keeps up an incessant tship when her unfledged brood are even distantly ap- 

 proached. These birds have often two broods in a season in the middle States. 

 Their food is wholly insects and their larvae, particularly small ants and beetles, 

 chiefly collected on the ground. 



Birds 



W. H. Davies 



When our two souls have left this mortal clay, 

 And. seeking mine, you think that mine is lost — 



Look for me first in that Elysian glade 



Where Lesbia is, for whom the birds sing most. 



What happy hearts those feathered mortals have, 



That sing so sweet when they're wet through in spring! 



For in that month of May when leaves are young. 

 Birds dream of song, and in their sleep they sing. 



And when the spring has gone and they are dumb. 

 Is it not fine to watch them at their play; 



Is it not fine to see a bird that tries 



To stand upon the end of every spray? 



See how they tih their pretty heads aside ; 



When women make that move they always please. 

 What cozy homes birds make in leafy walls 



That Nature's love has ruined — and the trees. 



Oft have I seen in fields the little birds 



Go in between a bullock's legs to eat, 

 But what gives me most joy is when I see 



Snow on my doorstep, printed by their feet. 



499 



