78 THE CITY OF THE BIRDS. 



breast between the maternal affection and the 

 worm appetite, but the love for her children con- 

 quers. In her beak she still holds the tasteful 

 caterpillar, the ends of which dangle as she turns 

 her head again to see what frightful robber of 

 the woods she has to deal with. 



Again she moves away with short, mincing 

 flight, as though she had not a chick in the world 

 to care for, and pretends to hunt among the 

 boughs for food. It is amusing, and a subject for 

 much reflection to observe the art this little "tit" 

 displays, in assuming a half-hearted, careless role, 

 that is so different from her real feelings. Where 

 and when did she learn to act so well .' 



At last, when it becomes painful for me to 

 longer keep her away from her hungry children, I 

 turn my face from her, when she instantly flies 

 back to the door and goes in. 



It is a breach of good manners thus to intrude 

 on her privacy, but curiosity conquers civility and 

 leads me up to the very portal. I peer into the 

 darkness, but nothing can be seen ; then I am 

 ungracious enough to listen, by placing my ear 

 close to the entrance. This proves too much for 

 the bird's equanimity, and she protests against 

 such conduct with a contemptuous hiss, which 

 sounds in the echoing cavity like the discharge of 

 a boy's pop-gun. The fact that the small singing 

 birds are capable of firing off such squibs is 



