70 A r HORN-TREE NEST. 



the bird-lover ; and a few weeks later there 

 came over the mountains to me this conclusion 

 to the story, written by Mrs. Nelly Hart Wood- 

 worth, of St. Albans : — 



" I was at the shrikes' nest Thursday last. I 

 sat down on the knoll beyond the nest, and 

 waited quietly for fifteen minutes. No signs of 

 life in nest or neighborhood, save the yearning 

 cry of the lark, as it alighted on the top of the 

 thorn-tree. After I was convinced that, in some 

 unaccountable manner, the shrikes had been 

 spirited away before they were half big enough, 

 I changed my place to the other side of the 

 tree, out of sight from the nest. When I had 

 been there for a long time, I heard distinctly a 

 low whispering in the nest, and lo ! the butcher 

 babies had become sentient beings, and were 

 talking very softly and sweetly among them- 

 selves. They had evidently miscalculated about 

 my departure. Then two or three little heads 

 stuck out above the edge, and the soft stirring 

 of baby wings was apparent. They cuddled 

 and nestled and turned themselves, and one 

 little butcher hoisted himself upon the upper 

 side of the nest, stood upright briefly and beat 

 his wings, then sank into the nest, which was full 

 of life and movement. So mpch for that day. 



" Friday one stood upon the edge of the nest, 

 and others looked out, but no feeding bird came. 



