WATSON'S CROSSING. 71 



the sound meant. The blackbirds hovered overhead 

 and protested at the invasion of their weedy haunts, al- 

 though their young had been long upon the wing. The 

 liquid notes of the swamp - sparrow trickled from the 

 hedge-row, mourning, I thought, that the protecting grass 

 should be no more ; and all unmoved upon its nest sat 

 a king-rail, which, deprived of its earlier brood, was pa- 

 tiently rearing another. There it sat, and another sweep 

 of the scythe would pass closely over it, if not, indeed, 

 through the poor bird's body. The mower drew nearer, 

 with arms drawn back, when, quick as a flash of light, 

 the bird fled from the swift stroke of the shining blade, 

 and, with a wild cry, forsook her nest. An armful of 

 grass was piled about it, and the mower passed on. Tow- 

 ards evening the poor bird returned, but only to find her 

 young dead from neglect or exposure. 



Again and again, in the gloaming, I heard the wild 

 cries of the bereaved king-rail, as it seemed to utter 

 curses on those who would not leave unmolested even 

 that little tract of waste land. 



As I tarried a moment to examine the curiously twist- 

 ed branches of an overhanging maple, I noticed a broad 

 hemlock slab floating towards the boat, and when quite 

 near, discovered that it was burdened with a living 

 freight. Coiled upon a mat of dead leaves that had 

 lodged or been placed upon the slab, was an enormous 

 water-snake. While it was yet at its ease, and I at mine, 

 I examined the couch of the sleepy, if not sleeping, ser- 

 pent as best I could from a distance. It appeared to 

 have no coarse material, in it, but made up of just such 



