12 BRIGHT FEATHERS. 
was adjudged to be), to that of my pilferings, he had formed the principal 
subject of the conversation of my mates and myself ; and around him had 
clustered all the horrors of youthful conceits and weird tales of ghostly 
lore. ‘How he looked!” ‘How his neck was lengthened by that 
scarlet woof!” ‘“ The place will, as a matter of course, and of a surety 
be haunted by his uneasy spirit, and we must henceforth avoid that 
portion of the wood !!” Such expressions, and such thoughts, were the 
burden of our associative hours ; and my punishment, considering the 
complete isolation of my position, was greatly, if not cruelly enhanced 
thereby. 
I had clandestinely and contrary to instructions, partially opened one 
of the green blinds of my prison enough to obtain a view of the small 
but pleasant lawn fronting my father’s dwelling. Nature was in one of 
her most inviting moods; the voices of my boyish companions at a 
merry game of base ball, were borne to me upon one of her softest 
breathings, while the shadow of the paternal roof was gradually extend- 
ing itself across the lawn and into the street. My youthful heart had 
yielded up its bitterness and resentment, to the terror inspired by ghost- 
ly meditations upon the self-sacrifice which had lately been enacted in 
the neighborhood, and was fast yielding vassalage to its complete sway, 
when a slight shadow flitting by the casement caused me to look up. 
For an instant my throat was choked, as I beheld what I imagined to be 
a spot of swaying blood upon a low lilac bush in front of my observing 
station. How it gleamed and changed in the reflected sunlight from 
across the street. It actually moved from branch to branch, and before 
I could realize in its semblance the figure of a bird, it had left a crimson, 
oleaginous impress upon my startled eyes, I had not, at that time had an 
introduction to or acquaintance with the Purple Finch, but as I watched 
—— 
