66 A CBT-BABY. 



ders; he was a cry-baby. He was not bright 

 and lively like number one, and he did not 

 squawk like number two, but he cried con- 

 stantly, and at six p. M. I left him calling and 

 crying at the top of his voice. Very early the next 

 morning I hastened to the scene of yesterday's 

 excitement. Number three was out on the tree. 

 I could hear number two still crying and squawk- 

 ing in the garden, and from the position and 

 labors of the male I concluded that number one 

 was in the next lot. It was a dismal, damp 

 morning, every grass-blade loaded with water, 

 and a heavy fog driving in from the sea. I 

 hoped number three would know enough to stay 

 at home, but his fate was upon him, and no 

 rain was ever wet enough to overcome destiny. 

 At about eight o'clock he stretched his little 

 wings and flew to the ground, — a very good 

 flight for his family, nearly thirty feet, twice as 

 far as either of his predecessors had gone ; si- 

 lently, too, — no fuss about it. He began at 

 once the baby mocker's hop with lifted wings, 

 headed for the west fence, jumped upon the 

 lower board, squeezed through and was off down 

 the garden before the usual crowd of spectators 

 had collected to strive for his head. 1 was de- 

 lighted. The parents, who were not near when 

 he flew, came back soon and found him at once. 

 I left him to them and returned to my place. 



