Song Birds and Water Fowl 
phoebe’s, with its thick, strong walls, whose 
sloping sides are picturesquely stuccoed with 
moss and lichen, and the finely moulded, deep 
receptacle holding the five white globules, pure 
as alabaster—a choice bit of rustic architecture, 
with its treasure of a bird’s best hopes. So much 
fascination, indeed, can one find in these end- 
lessly varied specimens of frail texture and con- 
summate art, when gathered for himself, that it 
is safe to assert, that whoever has collected half 
a dozen of even the commonest sorts, will find 
himself ticketed for the whole journey through 
the nest-country, so far as time and circum- 
stances will allow. 
&* 
The mountains round about Lake George are 
not always the emblem of imperturbable seren- 
ity. Nature’s destructive forces, that are here 
commonly smothered into a deceptive calm, 
now and then break loose with surprising vio- 
lence. I have never experienced nor heard of 
anything so weird, in the way of a thunder- 
storm, as the display that occurred here one 
night. A thunder-storm, @ Za mode, may be very 
grand, but it is a trifle conventional. On this 
occasion we were not treated to the usual inter- 
mittent flashes, like electrifying glances of Nat- 
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