me, "and man is to bruise their heads." The 

 good book of nature was not much read, evi- 

 dently, by this student of the other Good 

 Book. 



The swift is absolutely harmless. He is with- 

 out fang, sting, or evil charm. He is not ex- 

 actly orthodox, for he has a third eye in the top 

 of his head, the scientists tell us ; but that eye is 

 entirely hidden. It cannot bind nor leer, like 

 Medusa. Otherwise the swift is a perfectly 

 normal little creature, about six inches long 

 from tip to tip, quick of foot, scaly, friendly, 

 wonderfully colored in undulating browns and 

 blues, and looking, on the whole, like a pretty 

 little Noah's-ark alligator. 



On the south side of the clump of pines beyond 

 Cubby Hollow is a pile of decaying rails where 

 I have watched the swifts, and they me, for so 

 many seasons that I fancy they know me. 

 Dewberry -vines and Virginia creeper clamber 

 over the pile, and at one end, flaming all 

 through July, burns a splendid bush of butter- 

 fly-weed. The orange-red blossoms shine like 

 a beacon against the dark of the pines, and lure 

 a constant stream of insect visitors, who make 

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