her eggs,— and now she left them to the kindly 

 skies. About the middle of July they hatched, 

 and, in finding their way to the rail-pile, they 

 stopped at the first mound on the road, and 

 began life in earnest upon a fiery dinner of red 

 ants. 



It looks as if nature were partial in the care 

 she takes of her children. How long she both- 

 ers and fusses over us, for instance, and how, 

 without one touch of parental care or interest, 

 she tosses the lizard out, even before he is 

 hatched, to shift for himself. If, however, we 

 could eat red ants the day we are born and 

 thrive on them, I suppose that our mothers, too, 

 without much concern, might let us run. 



The day-old babies join their elders upon the 

 rails, and are received with great good humor— 

 with pleasure, indeed ; for the old ones seem to 

 enjoy the play of the youngsters, and allow them 

 to climb over their backs and claw and scratch 

 them without remonstrance. The swifts are 

 gentle, peaceable, and sweet-tempered. They 

 rarely fight among themselves. The only time 

 that I ever found one out of humor was when 

 she was anxiously hunting for a place in which 

 [90] 



