98 A BIRPS-NEST HUNTER. 



at the parent bird, while she sat within ten 

 feet of me, eying my every movement in- 

 tently, and uttering her wrath in various 

 cries (some catlike me wings among them), 

 my heart reproached me that I had ever 

 written of the cuckoo as a coward and a 

 sneak. Truth will not allow me to take the 

 words back entirely, even now ; but I felt 

 at that moment, and do still, that I might 

 have been better employed mending my 

 own faults than in holding up to scorn the 

 foibles of a creature who, when worst came 

 to worst, could set me such a shining exam- 

 ple of courageous fidelity. It is always in 

 order to be charitable ; and I ought to have 

 remembered that, for those who are them- 

 selves subject to imperfection, generosity is 

 the best kind of justice. 



