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wings of hope are tipped with lead and brush the very 



earth, instead of soaring in scented sunlight " 



(Coti.es.) 



* 

 * * 



There are upwards of forty nests of birds round me : 

 one palm tree, next to my library window, contains the 

 nests of no less than two pairs of Chipping Buntings, 

 that chirpy little fellow who comes on the very house- 

 steps to pick up crumbs. Close to it stands a small 

 soft-maple tree : a pair of Black-cap Titmice had been 

 industriously scooping a hole out of the decayed heart 

 of the tree for a week. From the habits of this bird, 

 which, I presume, is better known to you under the 

 name of Chickadee, none do I prefer to see building 

 about my garden : the quantity of insects it destroys in 

 catering for its young is really prodigious. About two 

 acres from this spot, another family of Chickadees seem 

 intent on applying for a location ticket. Wilson's Snow- 

 Bird breeds in the orchard, and is as careful about 

 hiding the cradle of his children as the Song Sparrow. 

 Bobins' nests and Yellow Birds' nests are in course of 

 construction all over the premises : the angle of a 

 structure used last winter as a snow-slide, has been 

 taken possession of by a pair of Bobins. 



THE THRUSH FAMILY. 



Though, from my earliest boyhood I was on the most 

 intimate footing with the head of these accomplished 

 vocalists, Bobin Bedbreast, it was at a comparative late 

 period I was accidently introduced to the other mem- 

 bers of this comely and musical family. In 1860, a 

 learned Boston naturalist, Dr. Henry Bryant, since 

 deceased, called on me, on his way to make an ornitho- 

 logical exploration of Labrador ; he was the bearer to 

 me of a letter of introduction from an eminent Wash- 



