THE CHIMNEY SWIFT 



One day a swarm of honey-bees went into my 

 chimney, and I mounted the stack to see into 

 which flue they had gone. As I craned my neck 

 above the sooty vent, with the bees humming 

 about my ears, the first thing my eye rested upon 

 in the black interior was a pair of long white 

 pearls upon a little shelf of twigs, the nest of the 

 chimney swallow, or swift, — honey, soot, and 

 birds' eggs closely associated. The bees, though 

 in an unused flue, soon found the gas of anthra- 

 cite that hovered about the top of the chimney 

 too much for them, and they left. But the swifts 

 are not repelled by smoke. They seem to have 

 entirely abandoned their former nesting-places 

 in hollow trees and stumps, and to frequent only 

 chimneys. A tireless bird, never perching, all 

 day upon the wing, and probably capable of fly- 

 ing one thousand miles in twenty-four hours, 

 they do not even stop to gather materials for 

 their nests, but snap oS the small dry twigs 

 from the tree-tops as they fly by. Confine one of 

 these swifts to a room and it does not perch, but 

 after flying till it becomes bewildered and ex- 

 hausted, it clings to the side of the wall till it 



