Three Tragical Bird-Romances 



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I HAVE certain rural friends in the Hud- 

 son Valley, in whose society I delight so 

 much that I am accustomed to jot down 

 from time to time memoranda of their doings. 

 Thus after a while I find myself in possession 

 of little stories whose very simplicity of truth 

 constitutes a charm often lacking in elaborate 

 fiction. Such is the record of the midsummer 

 affairs of three familiar birds who gave me 

 their confidence or gained my sympathy. 



June 22. Four days ago the pair of phoebe 

 flycatchers which had been investigating the 

 porch for some days, always together, sud- 

 denly began in great haste to settle themselves 

 on one of the timber-ends that support the over- 

 hanging roof of the south gable. But which 

 one? There were a dozen there just alike. 

 Poor little Phoebe couldn't select among them, 



