198 IN THE MIDDLE COUNTRY. 



trast to all their neighbors, the boisterous blue 

 jays, lively catbirds, blustering robins, and vul- 

 gar-mannered blackbirds. 



Sometimes I chanced upon a mother sitting 

 by her youngling, and although when I found 

 her alone she always flew, beside her little 

 charge she was dignified and calm in bearing, 

 and looked at me with fearless eyes, relying, 

 as it appeared, upon absolute stillness, and the 

 resemblance of her color to the branches, to 

 escape observation ; a ruse which must generally 

 be successful. 



The nest, the remains of which I often saw 

 on the tree where I found an infant, was the 

 merest apology, hardly more than a platform, 

 just enough to hold the pair of eggs which they 

 are said always to contain. Indeed, no baby 

 but a serene dove, with the repose of thirty gen- 

 erations behind it, could stay in it till his wings 

 grew. As it is, he must be forced to perch, 

 whether ready or not, for the structure cannot 

 hold together long. The wonder is that the 

 eggs do not roll out before they are hatched. 



Several things made the bird an interesting 

 subject for study ; his reputation for meekness, 

 his alleged silence, except at wooing time, 

 and the halo of melancholy with which the poets 

 have invested him. I resolved to make acquaint- 

 ance with my gentle neighbor, and I sought 



