70 BY~WAYS AND BIRD-NOTES. 
I bowled along at a good rate with my head 
high, taking in deep draughts of the whole- 
some air; a long row of beehives in a garden, 
with the busy workers stirring on their little 
porches, sweetened the scene with a thought 
of big white honey-combs and snowy muffins. 
A fair, yellow-haired child was standing on 
a stile as I ran past the house, and she looked 
at me with great surprised blue eyes, holding 
meantime her little sun-bonnet in her hands. 
A big brown dog left her side and ran bark- 
ing after me ina good-natured way for some 
distance, then turned and leisurely trotted 
back. A little farther on I stopped to watch 
a pair of cat-birds in a bit of hedge. They 
seemed to be looking for a good placein which 
to build their nest, for the female had a slender 
wisp of dry grass in her mouth. Up and 
down and in and out they went, all the time 
uttering their peculiar mewing cry. Finally 
the male mounted to the highest branch of the 
hedge and poured forth a_ sweet, trickling 
medley, not unlike the night-song of the South- 
ern mocking-bird, though of far slenderer vol- 
ume and inferior Zmbre. Why is it that the 
country folk have a contempt for the cat-bird? 
I have found this beautiful little songster under 
a ban from Michigan to Florida, with no one 
to say a good word for it, and yet, the mock- 
ing-bird and brown-thrush excepted, it has 
no rival in America as a singer. 
Driving on again my road soon began to 
descend, growing steeper and steeper, until at 
length I put my feet on the rest, and, with 
hand on the brake, coasted at dizzying speed 
round a long curve down into a dense wood 
of maple, walnut, and plane trees that bor- 
