A BIRD'S-NEST HUNTER. 77 



found small occasion for so loud a disturb- 

 ance. Possibly, moreover, as spectators 

 who had honored me with their presence 

 (and that in the very midst of their busy 

 season), they felt themselves cheated, and, 

 so to speak, outraged, by my failure to 

 finish the tragedy artistically, by shooting 

 the parent birds and pulling down the nest. 

 Creatures who can neither read novels nor 

 attend upon dramatic performances may be 

 presumed to suffer at times for lack of a 

 pleasurable excitement of the sensibilities. 

 At all events, these visitors contented them- 

 selves with staring at me for a few minutes, 

 and then one by one turned away, as if it 

 were not much of a show after all. To the 

 interested couple, however, it was a matter 

 of life and death. The female especially 

 (or the sitter, for the sexes are indistin- 

 guishable) hopped close about my head, 

 sometimes uttering a strangely sweet, plead- 

 ing note, which might have melted a heart 

 much harder than mine. Her associate 

 kept at a more cautious remove, but made 

 amends by continuing to scold after the 

 danger was all over. By the bye, I noticed 

 that in the midst of the commotion, as soon 



