Houses £gP Gardens 5 



discerned that, in spite of the winter storms that blew 

 and beat whilst you were in Africa, or no one knows 

 where, the wall has remained firm ; and, with a natural 

 desire for the old home, you said, " We'll prop up our 

 nest in the arms of our lovely wistaria, and the red 

 wall shall be our buttress." And now the wistaria is 

 blossoming, such showers of mauve depending, en- 

 hanced by stars of the small white clematis, which 

 supports itself by clambering the stem of its neigh- 

 bour. 



I push aside the leaves and the blossoms to look at 

 that flycatcher's nest. Only a foot below me, and five 

 eggs tucked inside. She was on, and stayed long 

 enough to turn up her head when she saw mine, her 

 bright eye filled with a glance of timidity, and then 

 she was gone ! I heard her sharp " Chuck, Chuck," 

 when she settled on some bough of a tree on the lawn, 

 and her mate joined in with sympathy. Curious mix- 

 tures of boldness and fear ! 



Later on the nest is pressed out of all its symmetry 

 by the young birds when they are ready to fly. Pretty 

 little fellows in plumage of dull dusty brown, flecked 

 all over with whitish spots. Young flycatchers are 

 not nearly so noisy in the nest as most birds. If only 

 that lovely cousin of theirs, the pied flycatcher, would 

 dwell in our English gardens as a summer visitor as 

 generally as the commoner species. They are so local 

 in their range, and betake themselves to wilder dis- 

 tricts, such as Wales and Yorkshire, where wooded 

 valleys and hill streams are to be found. Beautiful 

 little birds, the male all white and black in conspicu- 



