THE NEST. 143° 
assume a rough outline of what its form was 
eventually to be; its shape, when completed, 
being very like the half of a teacup stuck against 
a wall. Being curious to see from whence they 
procured their building materials, I tracked them 
to the edge of the stream, where, on a tiny kind 
of beach, they worked up the clay and fine sand 
into mortar with their delicate beaks. For days 
these feathered architects, with unwearying pa- 
tience, journeyed to and from the _ brick-field, 
making their own bricks, carrying them home, 
and carefully laying them. 
The house is built; and next to furnish it. 
First of all, minute bits of soft dry grass were 
brought, and laid on the bottom, and round the 
rough walls; this occupied about two days; then 
excursions had to be made along the banks of 
the stream, where ducks’ feathers and bits of 
goose-down were picked up, brought home, and 
neatly deposited on the grass lining, until the 
inside was made as smooth and soft as an eider- 
down pillow. The trustful couple knew no fear. 
I frequently stood on a log to watch them, their 
feathers touching my face as they toiled at their 
brickwork—twisting, shaping, fitting, and gluing 
the bricks together with an adhesive salivary 
secretion. 
