138 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. 



of possibilities within ; life, music and flight, only wait- 

 ing a little more warmth from the mother's breast. 

 There is such an unexplainable charm about a nest of 

 eggs. 1 confess that I never see a nest of eggs of one of 

 our domestic fowls without a thrill of pleasure. Thomas 

 W. Higginson, in his incomparable " Out Door Papers," 

 says : " I think that if required on pain of death to 

 name instantly the most perfect thing in the universe, 

 I should risk my fate on a bird's egg. There is, first, its 

 exquisite fragility, strong only by the mathematical 

 j)recision of that form so delicately moulded. Then its 

 range of tints so varied, so subdued, so beautiful, 

 whether of pure white, like the martin's, or pure green ; 

 like the robin's, or dotted and mottled into the loveliest 

 of browns; like the red thrush's, or aqua marine with 

 stains of moss agate; like the chipping sparrow's, or 

 blotched with long weird ink marks on a pale ground ; 

 like the oriole's, as if it bore inscribed some magic clew 

 to the bird's darting flight and pensile nest. Above all, 

 the associations of this little wonder of winged splendor 

 and celestial melody, coiled in mj^stery within these 

 tiny walls ; it will be as if a pearl opened and an angel 

 sang." 



A house wren arrived here only a day or two ago, 

 and has already explored the cavity of a dry limb in 

 which he and his mate had a nest last year. The phebe 

 birds have built on a beam under the shed, and the 

 three white eggs are nearly ready to hatch. Both birds 

 assist m incubation. Last summer a pair of humming 

 birds built a nest in a large tree nearest the house. It 



