not abandoned it ; for a crack of light into a 

 wren's nest would certainly addle the eggs. 

 They are such tiny, dusky, tucked-away things, 

 and their cradle is so deep and dark and hidden. 

 There were no fatalities, I am sure, following 

 my efforts to prop the leaning structure, though 

 the wrens were just as sure that it was all a 

 fatality— utterly misjudging my motives. As a 

 rule, I have never been able to help much in 

 such extremities. Either I arrive too late, or 

 else I blunder. 



I thought, for a moment, that it was the nest 

 of the long-billed's cousin, the short-billed marsh- 

 wren, that I had found— which would have 

 been a gem indeed, with pearly eggs instead of 

 chocolate ones. Though I was out for the mere 

 joy of being out, I had really come with a hope 

 of discovering this mousy mite of a wren, and of 

 watching her ways. It was like hoping to watch 

 the ways of the "wunk." Several times I have 

 been near these little wrens ; but what chance 

 has a pair of human eyes with a skulking four 

 inches of brownish streaks and bars in the mid- 

 dle of a marsh ! Such birds are the everlasting 

 despair of the naturalist, the salt of his earth. 

 [55] 



