6 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS. 
and first flights; keeping successive nestfuls of 
gaping mouths supplied with worms all the sum- 
mer through. 
His red breast is a myth and belongs to his 
English namesake ; and it must be owned that 
his is a homely reddish brown that looks red only 
when the sunlight falls on it. Huis wife’s breast 
is even less red than his — in fact, she looks as if 
the rain had washed off most of her color. But, 
perhaps, had they been beautiful they would have 
been vain, and then, alas for the robins we know 
and love now. When the children make their 
debut, they are more strikingly homely than their 
parents ; possibly because we have known the old 
birds until, like some of our dearest friends, their 
plainness has become beautiful to us. In any case, 
the eminently speckled young gentlemen that come 
out with their new tight-fitting suits and awkward 
ways do not meet their father’s share of favor. 
Perhaps the nest they come from accounts for 
their lack of polish. It is compact and strong, 
built to last, and to keep out the rain; but with 
no thought of beauty. In building their houses 
the robins do not follow our plan, but begin with 
the frame and work in. When the twigs and 
weed stems are securely placed they put on the 
plaster —a thick layer of mud that the bird 
moulds with her breast till it is as hard and 
smooth as a plaster cast. And inside of all, for 
cleanliness and comfort, they lay a soft lining of 
