44 WOODLAND IDYLS. 



On visiting the cuckoo's nest this morn I find 

 that all four eggs have hatched, the youngsters 

 completely filling the nest. All are much larger 

 than was the single one I saw on yesterday, 

 and their feathers, now dry, are a dark bluish- 

 gray in hue, more like those of a green heron 

 than a drab like those of the parent cuckoos. 

 One of the old ones was still brooding them on 

 the nest though the day is warm enough. But 

 one of the parents has been seen at a time, and 

 that the one on the nest. Some hustling will 

 be necessary during the next few weeks to satis- 

 fy the four hungry stomachs of the growing 

 young. All are yet blind and when I ap- 

 proached three of them stuck up their heads 

 and opened their mouths in disappointed ex- 

 pectancy. The other one was probably asleep. 



The naturalist who travels far and wide by 

 himself through woodland dells, over the hills 

 and adown the vales, acquires a habit of at- 

 tributing to things inanimate, as well as to those 

 possessed of life, a sense of feeling and of 

 reasoning. He thinks of them as knowing his 

 presence, as greeting his footsteps, as catering 

 to his desires and furnishing of their own free 

 will subjects for his study and his thoughts. 

 Each form he meets becomes to him, for the 

 time being, a companion, full of good cheer, of 

 hearty welcome. To them he can reveal his in- 

 most soul. From them he can expect and often 



