ANXIOUS TIMES. 49 



to dispose of her load. She came to my side 

 of her tree, squawked loudly, flapping her 

 wings and jerking herself about. I remained 

 motionless and did not look at her, pretending 

 to be absorbed in my book ; but she refused to 

 be mollified. It evidently did not please her 

 to have me see so plainly ; she desired to retain 

 the friendly screen of leaves which had secured 

 her a small measure of privacy. I could not 

 blame her ; I felt myself intrusive ; and at last 

 I respected her wishes and returned to my old 

 place, when she immediately calmed down and 

 administered the food she had held till then. 

 Poor mother! those were trying times. Her 

 solicitude overpowered her discretion, and her 

 manner proclaimed to every one within hearing 

 that the nestlings were out. Then, too, on the 

 eighth day the little ones added their voices, 

 and soon called loudly enough to attract the 

 dullest of nest-robbers. I was so fearful lest 

 that nest should be disturbed that I scarcely 

 dared to sleep o' nights ; the birds themselves 

 were hardly more anxious than I was. 



The eleventh day of the birdlings' life was 

 exceedingly warm, without a breath of air stir- 

 ring, suffocating to humanity, but preeminently 

 inspiring to mocking-birds, and every singer 

 within a mile of me, I am sure, was singing 

 madly, excepting the newly made parent. Up- 



