IN THE HEMLOCKS. 71 



there, so in keeping was it with the mossy 

 character of the rock, and I have had a 

 growing affection for the bird ever since. 

 The rock seemed to love the nest and to 

 claim it as its own. I said, What a lesson 

 in architecture is here ! Here is a house 

 that was built, but with such loving care and 

 such beautiful adaptation of the means to 

 the end, that it looks like a product of na- 

 ture. The same wise economy is noticeable 

 in the nests of all birds. No bird would 

 paint its house white or red, or add aught 

 for show. 



At one point in the grayest, most shaggy 

 part of the woods, I come suddenly upon a 

 brood of screech-owls, full grown, sitting 

 together upon a dry, moss-draped limb, but 

 a few feet from the ground. I pause within 

 four or five yards of them and am looking 

 about me, when my eye alights upon these 

 gray, motionless figures. They sit perfectly 

 upright, some with their backs and some with 

 their breasts toward me, but every head 

 turned squarely in my direction. Their eyes 

 are closed to a mere black line; through 

 this crack they are watching me, evidently 

 thinking themselves unobserved. The spec- 

 tacle is weird and grotesque, and suggests 



