250 A MIDSUMMER WOOING. 



to protect it if necessary, till the train moved 

 off, and then we went home congratulating our- 

 selves on possessing the goldfinch's precious 

 secret, planning to spend a part of every morn- 

 ing in studying her ways. 



"Man proposes," but many things "dispose." 

 The next morning revealed another tragedy. 

 The dainty nest, so laboriously built, was found 

 a wreck, the whole of one side pulled out and 

 hanging over the branch, while the soft cushion 

 of silky white thistle-down, an inch thick, lay 

 on the grass below. The culprit we could not 

 discover, for he had left no trace. It might 

 be a squirrel ; it certainly looked like the work 

 of his strong claws; but, on the other hand, it 

 might be the sparrow-hawk who had made the 

 meadow his daily hunting-ground since the mys- 

 terious disaster to the kingbird's nest had de- 

 prived us of the police services of that vigilant 

 bird. Probably a squirrel was the culprit, for 

 the hawk appeared only after the grass was cut, 

 and grasshoppers and other insects were left 

 without shelter, and he seemed to give his entire 

 attention to the grass at the foot of the flagpole 

 on which he always perched. 



Whoever was guilty of the cruel deed, it 

 added one more to the list of ravaged nests, and 

 of all that we watched that summer exactly haK 

 had been broken up or destroyed. 



