8o 



STARLIGHT AND SUNSHINE. 



I took the wounded bird home, and 

 for some days fed it with rose-bugs, 

 . which it swallowed by 

 the handful after smear- 

 ing the same with a vis- 

 cid gluten which exuded 

 from the mouth. Woe, 

 indeed, to the hapless fly 

 that chances to get into 

 that limed pit ! 



Not many days after the 

 above incident, I chanced upon 

 a nighthawk with young. The 

 mother-bird flew up almost at 

 my feet and ambled off, pursu- 

 ing the familiar flopping antics of her 

 kind, simulating the broken wing and 

 epileptic fit, and flattening herself out 

 on the stone wall, followed precisely the same manoeuvres which 

 I had often noticed in her congener, the whippoorwill, under 



