48 IN THE BOCKY MOUNTAINS. 



spicuous as possible, I drew down a branch of 

 the low tree over my seat, and fastened it with 

 a fine string to a stout weed below. Then I 

 thought I had a perfect screen ; I devoutly 

 hoped the birds would riot notice me. 



Vain delusion ! and labor as vain ! Doubt- 

 less two pairs of anxious eyes watched from 

 some neighboring bush all my careful prepara- 

 tions, and then and there two despairing hearts 

 bade farewell to their lovely little home, aban- 

 doned it and its treasures to the spy and the 

 destroyer, which in their eyes I seemed to be. 



This conclusion was forced upon me by the 

 experiences of the next few days. The birds 

 absolutely would not approach the nest while I 

 was in the park. The first morning I sat mo- 

 tionless for nearly two hours, and not a feather 

 showed itself near that bush; it was plainly 

 " tabooed." During the next day the chat 

 called from this side and that, moving about in 

 his wonderful way, without disturbing a twig, 

 rustling a leaf, or flitting a wing as silently, 

 indeed, as if he were a spirit unclothed. 



While waiting for him to show himself, mak- 

 ing myself as nearly a part of nature about me 

 as a mortal is gifted to do, I congratulated my- 

 self upon the one good look I had secured, for, 

 with all my efforts and all my watching, I saw 

 him but twice more all summer. The enigma 



