A WIDOW AND TWINS. 129 
eessant labors of this kind and her over- 
whelming anxiety whenever any strange bird 
came near, I began to be seriously alarmed 
for her. As a member of a strictly Ameri- 
can family, she was in a fair way, I thought, 
to be overtaken by the “most American of 
diseases,’”— nervous prostration. It tired 
me to watch her. 
With us, and perhaps with her likewise, 
it was a question whether Number Two 
would remain in the nest for the day. He 
grew more and more restless; as my com- 
panion —a learned man— expressed it, he 
began to “ramp round.” Once he actually 
mounted the rim of the nest, a thing which 
his more precocious brother had never been 
seen to do, and stretched forward to pick at 
a neighboring stem. Late that afternoon 
the mother fed him five times within an hour, 
instead of once an hour, or thereabouts, as 
had been her habit three weeks before. She 
meant to have him in good condition for the 
coming event; and he, on his part, was ac- 
tive to the same end, —standing upon the 
wall of the nest again and again, and exer- 
cising his wings till they made a cloud about 
him. <A dread of launching away still kept 
