XXI 



SOUTHWAED BOUND 



While walking through a piece of pine wood, 

 three or four days ago, I was deUghted to put 

 my eye unexpectedly upon a hummingbird's nest. 

 The fairy structure was placed squarely upon the 

 upper surface of a naked, horizontal branch, and 

 looked so fresh, trimmed outwardly with bits of 

 gray lichen, that I felt sure it must have been 

 built this year. But where now were the birds 

 that built it, and the nestlings that were hatched 

 in it ? Who could tell ? In imagination I saw the 

 mother sitting upon the tiny, snow-white eggs, 

 and then upon the two little ones — little ones, 

 indeed, no bigger than bumble-bees at first. I 

 saw her feeding them day by day, as they grew 

 larger and larger, till at last the cradle was get- 

 ting too narrow for them, and they were ready to 

 make a trial of their wings. But where were they 

 now ? Not here, certainly. For a fortnight I had 

 been passing down this path almost daily, and 

 not once had I seen a hummingbird. 



