the persons passing were never once 

 conscious of the nearness of bird or 

 nest, swinging breezes often bringing 

 the latter so near that it almost touched 

 their faces. 



I could see it hourly from my win- 

 dow, the overhanging leaf, the opal- 

 ized lustre of the brooding bird, as if a 

 store of sunshine was shivered, and 

 falling over her feathers, then momen- 

 tarily hidden as the swinging leaf in- 

 tervened. More solid pursuits were 

 forgotten or for the time regarded as of 

 little importance; each delicate outline 

 became familiar; the brooding leaf as- 

 sumed a personality; it was a guardian 

 of the home, vitalized, spiritualized, 

 protective. It seemed to change posi- 

 tion as the sun made the need apparent, 

 shielding the little one in the long wait- 

 ing days, so patient and passive in the 

 sweet expectancy of nearing mother- 

 hood. My memory pictures her still, 

 while a more tangible photograph upon 

 my desk gives permanence to my "bird 

 of the musical wing" as she brooded 

 over the apple-tree nest. 



With this home as a focus, lawn and 

 garden seemed to hold the sunshine in 

 suspension; uplifted grasses gave it 

 recognition in smiling approval; shad- 

 ows were invented with humane and 

 beneficent attributes, and the very air 

 was radiant with scent and gracious in- 

 fluence. 



Sometimes the bird came to my win- 

 dow, her beak clicking against the 

 glass in a vain effort to probe the flow- 

 ers within. 



There were visits, too, to the piazza, 

 when the family were gathered there, 

 poising above the embroidered flowers 

 upon a lady's slipper and trying per- 

 sistently to taste their illusive sweet- 

 ness. 



Thrice upon the fourth day of sit- 

 ting she improved the nest with an ex- 

 tra beakful of cotton, holding it firmly 

 for five or ten minutes before it was 

 inwrought. This was repeated after 

 two weeks when there was a decided 

 change — the little, warm breast was 

 pressed less closely against the nest 

 treasures. Some amazing instinct, di- 

 rectly opposed to that dear experience 

 by which we find a short path to a long 

 wandering, taught her that their in- 



creased fragility would yield to her 

 full weight, and her touch was of ex- 

 quisite softness. 



When three full weeks had passed a 

 homely baby no bigger than a honey 

 bee lay in the nest, a one day's advan- 

 tage kept to the end, and noticeable in 

 both size and strength. The next 

 morning this mite was duplicated, their 

 whole bodies trembling with every 

 heart beat. 



Life became now a problem of sup- 

 ply and demand, only a clearer ex- 

 pression of the one that has from all 

 time agitated humanity. Then began 

 that marvel of marvels, the feeding of 

 the newly hatched birds. It was hardly 

 worth while to question the wisdom of 

 the process, though I confess that after 

 each feeding I expected only two little 

 mangled corpses would remain! 



The food, partially digested in the 

 mother's stomach, was given by regur- 

 gitation, her beak being thrust so far 

 down their throats that I surmised it 

 would pierce the bottom of the nest, to 

 say nothing of the frail bodies churned 

 violently up and down meanwhile. The 

 great wonder was that the infants sur- 

 vived this seemingly brutal and dan- 

 gerous exercise in which they were 

 sometimes lifted above the nest, the 

 food being given alternately at intervals 

 of half an hour to an hour. They 

 thrived, however, under a treatment 

 that gave strength to the muscles, be- 

 sides aiding in the digestion of food. 



From the first, the comparative 

 length of beak was their most notice- 

 able feature, the proportion becoming 

 less marked by the fourth day when 

 fine hairy pin-feathers appeared, these 

 increasing in size and reinforced by a 

 decided plumage seen above the rim of 

 the nest before the second week ended. 



By the ninth day they attempted 

 their first toilet, drawing the incipient 

 feathers, mere hairs, through the beak, 

 and on the tenth day, more surprising 

 still, they had found their voices. Sev- 

 eral times daily the branch was pulled 

 down to the level of my eyes, the twins 

 regarding me with the surprise and in- 

 nocence of babyhood, sinking low into 

 the nest meanwhile, and emitting a 

 plaintive cry almost human in its 

 pathos and expression. 



