MA Y MUSES 103 



nests receiving apparently equal attention alter- 

 nately. I watched him at intervals during more 

 than an hour and a half. The missing fish had 

 probably been killed by a bird. A week later the 

 stream had so shrunk that one of the nests was 

 almost dry, and had of course been abandoned. 

 The other was in good condition, and closely 

 guarded as usual. 



In the Thicket 



Although the streams now reveal wonderful 

 organisms endowed with quick perceptions and 

 provided with diverse weapons, it is not in the 

 water but in the busy world of the thicket that 

 life now attains its fullest glory where every 

 sound is music, and every creeping thing a marvel. 

 But here, as elsewhere, the brightest coloured 

 objects are not necessarily the most pleasing, nor 

 are the loudest voices the sweetest. The gaudy 

 titmouse, for instance he of the sharp, clinking 

 note may pass unheeded while the mellow 

 willow-warbler, clad but in sober green and yellow, 

 holds captive our thoughts as he repeats at 

 brief intervals one of the most delightful songs of 



