70 IN THE HEMLOCKS. 



Two or three more dippings would have made the 

 purple complete. The female is the color of the 

 song sparrow, a little larger, with heavier beak, and 

 tail much more forked. 



In a little opening quite free from brush and trees, 

 I step down to bathe my hands in the brook, when a 

 small, light slate-colored bird flutters out of the bank, 

 not three feet from my head, as I stoop down, and, 

 as if severely lamed or injured, flutters through the 

 grass and into the nearest bush. As I do not follow 

 but remain near the nest, she chips sharply, which 

 brings the male, and I see it is the speckled Canada 

 warbler. I find no authority in the books for this 

 bird to build upon the ground, yet here is the nest, 

 made chiefly of dry grass, set in a slight excavation 

 in the bank, not two feet from the water, and looking 

 a little perilous to anything but ducklings or sand- 

 pipers. There are two young birds and one little 

 speckled egg, just pipped. But how is this ? what 

 mystery is here? One nestling is much larger than 

 the other, monopolizes most of the nest, and lifts its 

 open mouth far above that of its companion, though 

 obviously both are of the same age, not more than a 

 day old. Ah ! I see ; the old trick of the cow-bunt- 

 ing, with a stinging human significance. Taking the 

 interloper by the nape of the neck, I deliberately 

 drop it into the water, but not without a pang, as I 

 iee its naked form, convulsed with chills, float down 

 fetream. Cruel ? So is Nature cruel. I take one 

 Mfe to save two. In less than two days this pot 



