XVI. 



THE TANAGER'S NEST. 



ONE of the prettiest memory-pictures of my 

 delightful June on the banks of the Black River 

 is the nest of a scarlet tanager, placed as the 

 keystone of one of Nature's exquisite living 

 arches. The path which led to it was almost as 

 charming as the nest itself. Lifting a low-hang- 

 ing branch of maple at the entrance to the 

 woods, we took leave of the world and all its 

 affairs, and stepped at once into a secluded 

 path. Though so near the house, the woods 

 were solitary, for they were private and very 

 carefully protected. Passing up the rustic foot- 

 path, under interlacing boughs of maple and 

 beech, we came at length to a sunny open spot, 

 where all winter grain is kept for partridges, 

 squirrels, and other pensioners who may choose 

 to come. From this little opening one road 

 turned to the wild-berry field, where lived the 

 cuckoo and the warblers ; another opened an in- 

 viting way into the deep woods; a third went 

 through the fernery. We took that, and passed 

 on through a second lovely bit of wood, where 



