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I think they are the only birds I know that are always satisfied

with the weather. No matter what the condition of the atmos¬

phere, they are contented and happy, and willing to affirm that

the state of things at any given moment is the very best that

could have been desired.


In summer, when the mercury goes bolting up to the

nineties, they peep out of the bushes and look up at the sky,

and say, ‘ Splendid ! perfectly splendid ! ideal weather for birds

and ice merchants.’ In winter, when the mercury goes creeping

down fifteen degrees below zero, and the cold was nearly severe

enough to freeze the inside of Vesuvius solid down to the centre

of the globe, those Thrushes would sit out on a brauch and

exclaim, ‘ By gracious, did you ever see such weather as this ! I

like au atmosphere that freezes up your very marrer. It keeps

lip the price of coal. Don’t talk to me of summer ; give me cold

and plenty of it.’ If contentment is happiness, then the life of

these Thrushes is one uninterrupted condition of blessedness.


East year the Thrushes made up their minds to rear a

family ; but so shy and quiet were they about their projected

plans, that I only knew things were ‘ fixed up ’ by finding a nest

by chance which I thought must be theirs. I did it on the

elimination of chance principle. There were only Nonpareils,

Indigoes, and Thrushes in the enclosure. I knew it was not the

nest of a Nonpareil, it was far too large for an Indigo ; what

then could it be but the Spectacle Thrushes’ ? However, to be

quite certain I knew I must possess my soul in patience and wait

for eggs.


A morning or two later, on August 13th, to be exact, I

took a casual peep, and lo ! there was au egg in the nest; about

as big as an English Thrush’s, but rather rounder, and the same

shade of blue, but without any sort of markings. The eggs

were laid every other day, and the nest is not quite so large as a

Blackbird’s, aud made of dry grass and bents beautifully woven

together, and about four feet from the ground. My friend Mr.

Oates was here on August 15th, and I graciously permitted him

a peep, as an old and experienced aviculturist ; and also with a

view to stop all subsequent doubt and gainsaying. If ‘Human

happiness consists in having what you want,’ I was supremely

happy that August day. I remember reading once ‘that Fortune

sometimes shows us the way but it is energy that achieves

success.’ I determined that, if care was worth aught, success

should be mine.


I carefully noted the day when the first egg was laid, and



