BERRIES 
crannied nooks and crevices, was a haven for birds; it 
seemed to breathe protection and contentment, so quiet 
and unassuming were its soft gray walls adorned with the 
delicate pink of sweet-briar blossoms in June. Phoebes 
and swallows appropriated the corners under the eaves; 
chippy birds and yellow warblers concealed their tiny 
homes among the vines; ruby-throats visited the scarlet 
fuchsias that grew in the lower casements and little swal- 
lows fearlessly peeped in at those of the chambers above. 
Two rugged pines, now faintly tinged with the golden 
hue of their inconspicuous blossoms, spread their dark 
branches, that sheltered the nests of kinglets and thrushes, 
over the low roof of the cottage. 
A host of fruit-loving birds lived in the garden in 
early summer. They feasted continually on choke and 
wild cherries, and cloyingly sweet mulberries. Seldom 
at any other season, did the shy, elusive cedar wax- 
wings enter the garden, but love of the purple fruit of 
the mulberry dispelled all fear in June. The bluebirds 
and orioles were equally fond of it, but they must, 
perchance, satisty their appetites with that which fell 
to the ground, for the waxwings claimed the trees. 
On quiet summer days the drowsy hum of bees 
and the buzz of humming birds joined the chorus of bird 
twitters. With incredible swiftness, the hummers dart- 
ed from the honeysuckles to the gladiolas, sipping nectar 
from their showy blossoms. On the shady side of the 
cottage, ina cool, moist, spot beside a running brook, 
grew a great patch of jewelweed; in August the dainty 
orange flowers drooped like pendant ear-jewels from 
pale translucent stems. This was a veritable paradise 
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