XX. 



A CLEVER CUCKOO. 



" Hark, the cuckoo, weatherwise, 

 Still hiding, farther onward woos you." 



The mysterious bird, around whose name 

 cluster some strange facts as well as absurd fan- 

 cies ; sby and intolerant of the human race, yet 

 bold in protecting his treasures; devoted and 

 tender in his family relations, yet often known 

 in the neighborhood where he passes his days as 

 a mere "wandering voice," — 



*' No bird, but an invisible thing, 

 A voice, a mystery," — 



this bird, the cuckoo, was a stranger to me till 

 one happy day last June, when I came upon him 

 where he could not escape, beside his own nest. 

 In returning from our daily visit to the woods 

 that morning, my fellow-student turned down a 

 narrow footway connecting the woods with the 

 home-fields, and I followed. She had passed 

 through half its length, her dog close behind 

 her, when our eyes, ever searching the trees and 

 bushes, fell almost at the same instant upon a 



