156 AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 



my 4-8-10-7-3-1. My 11-7-5-6-1 you may find to your sorrow in grand- 

 mother's attic. My 1-6-2-10-3-1 you will find on the breakfast table. 

 My 8-7-4-5 are often worn by beggars. My 4-8-2-11-5 is what your lit- 

 tle sister does. My 1-6-7-9-5 are parts of a vessel. My 6-8-10-3-4 is 

 part of a fork. My whole is a bird beloved by us all. 



A SUMMER ACQUAINTANCE. 



"What is that noise I hear every morning when I am getting break- 

 fast?" asked mama one morning in May. "What is it like?" I asked. 

 "Oh, it is a clucking, screeching sound, like a man clucking to his horse, 

 only louder and more prolonged, and seems to come from directly up 

 the marsh." 



"I think," said I, "that it is one of our summer neighbors, Mrs. Clap- 

 per Rail, just moved into the marsh." About two hundred yards back 

 of our house is a salt water marsh which is a favorite feeding ground 

 of the herons, spotted sandpipers and rails. I had heard these sounds 

 myself and I made up my mind that a pair of Clapper Rails were nest- 

 ing close by, and determined to find the nest. 



At high tide I took my boat and rowed around awhile, but could find 

 no sign of them. When the tide had gone down, I took off my shoes 

 and stockings and waded out to search more closely and again failed to 

 find the nest, though I saw the birds skulking about among the grass 

 tufts on the other side of the marsh. After I gave up the search, I 

 could hear them chuckling and cackling as if they were rejoicing over 

 my defeat. I kept a pretty close watch over them, aided by my field 

 glasses, but though I could see them feeding, and hear their note, I 

 could not locate the nest. 



One day in June I asked my father to take me to the Islands so that 

 I might study Herring Gulls. He said that I had a good subject nearer 

 home, so I determined to try again. I went straight for the highest 

 tuft of grass on the marsh, when suddenly, up flew Mrs. Rail with a sort 

 of startled cry, about four or five feet in front of me. She flew to a 

 fallen cedar tree, and it was not many minutes before I was looking 

 into her pretty home. 



The nest was made of grass a little above the water, and was arched 

 over with thatch. It contained eleven eggs of a creamy color spotted 

 with reddish brown about the larger end. The bird was dark in color, 

 with long legs and neck. The next time I visited the nest, it was 

 abandoned, and I suppose a brood of young rails were following their 

 mother about the feeding ground. 



This is probably their permanent summer home, for I remember 



