112 A WIDOW AND TWINS. 



as the reader, if he have patience enough, 

 may presently discover for himself. 



As I sat upon the piazza, in the heat of 

 the day, busy or half busy with a book, a 

 sound of humming-bird's wings now and 

 then fell on my ear, and, as I looked toward 

 the honeysuckle vine, I began after a while 

 to remark that the visitor was invariably a 

 female. I watched her probe the scarlet 

 tubes and dart away, and then returned to 

 my page. She might have a nest somewhere 

 near ; but if she had there was small like- 

 lihood of my finding it, and, besides, I was 

 just now not concerned with such trifles. 

 On the 24th of June, however, a passing 

 neighbor dropped into the yard. Was I in- 

 terested in humming-birds ? he inquired. If 

 so, he could show me a nest. I put down 

 my book, and went with him at once. 



The beautiful structure, a model of artis- 

 tic workmanship, was near the end of one of 

 the lower branches of an apple-tree, eight or 

 ten feet from the ground, saddled upon the 

 drooping limb at a point where two offshoots 

 made a good holding-place, while an upright 

 twig spread over it a leafy canopy against 

 rain and sun. Had the builders sought my 



