IlS WOOD NOTES AND NEST HUNTING. 



rebukes, without noticing her color. Above, a 

 dark olive-green, and as seen from this angle, with 

 some of the quills edged with greenish yellow. 

 The under parts pure white, crown dark ash, and 

 a dark streak along the side of the head, from the 

 base of the beak, with a light one above it. 



The spirit of maternity has whispered to her 

 again, and she darts off through the thick alders, 

 and in ten seconds is lost to view. I am surprised 

 that she does not sooner return, for the most diffi- 

 cult part of her building is finished, and she has 

 now only to collect fine grasses and pine leaves for 

 the lining. What keeps her away? Five, ten, 

 fifteen minutes pass, and still she does not come. 

 Has she flown up in the orchard for her diet of 

 worms ? Just at the moment she is not expected, 

 her flight, as noiseless as that of time, is seen pass- 

 ing up through the leaves, approaching her nest, 

 not by easy stages, as many birds, but directly to 

 it; while her mate, whom she has brought with 

 her, has begun his ri-re-o-ere-ehit, cre-ohit in a neigh- 

 boring tree. 



Mr. John Burroughs, whose writings have the 

 true sylvan ring — to read them is next to walk- 

 ing in the woods — says, in describing his song, 

 that it is " The lay of industry and contentment, 



