A RAPTUROUS MORNING SONG. 265 



the street would know where her eggs were to 

 be found. She had a very pretty way of going 

 to the nest; indeed, all her manners were win- 

 ning. She always alighted on the peach-tree* 

 branch, looked about on all sides, especially at 

 me in my seat on the piazza, flirted her tail, 

 uttered an anxious " phit," and then jumped off 

 the limb and dived under the bushes near the 

 ground. It is to be presumed that she ascended 

 to her nest behind the leaves by hopping from 

 twig to twig, though this I could never manage 

 to see. 



And what of her gay little spouse all this 

 time ? Did he spend his days cheering her with 

 music, as all the fathers of feathered families 

 are fabled to do ? Indeed he did not, and until 

 I watched very closely, and saw him going about 

 over the poplars in silence, I thought he had 

 left the neighborhood. Once in the day he had 

 a good singing time, about five o'clock in the 

 morning, two hours before the sun rose over the 

 mountains. If one happened to be awake then, 

 he would hear the most rapturous song, deliv- 

 ered at the top of his voice, and continuing for 

 a long time. But as it grew lighter, and the 

 human world began to stir, he became quiet 

 again, and, if he sang at all, he went so far 

 from home that I did not hear him. 



But the wise little blue-head had not deserted; 



