FIELD SKETCHES. 



sea-shore. In a little hollow on the side of this heap, under a sort of 

 pent-house formed by a lock of the sea-weed, a redbreast has built her 

 nest and hatched her young, unmolested by the gardeners and other 

 persons who are continually passing by, for her situation is almost close 

 to the garden-door ; and to all appearance insensible of any incon- 

 venience from the manure heap having been recently dug away within 

 a couple of feet of her nest, which she goes in and out of with little 

 scruple, in the presence of any one who happens to be near. The fact 

 is, perhaps, not unworthy of notice, both on account of the substance in 

 which the bird has chosen to establish herself, and of the public and 

 much frequented situation. 



A twelvemonth ago I observed another redbreast's nest very pleas- 

 ingly situated in a window of a house at that time my residence, which 

 stood in a garden. The house was almost covered with ivy : and round 

 some of the windows was a light trellis, with which roses and other 

 flowering plants were interwoven. On the sill of one of the windows, 

 and in a snug recess within the trellis, the redbreast took up her 

 abode, where she might be continually seen from the parlour, to which 

 the window belonged, during the whole process of incubation, till in 

 due time she carried off her young brood in safety. She was much the 

 object of observation to different members of the family, and often would 

 have escaped notice, as she sat patiently on her nest, but for the bright 

 sparkling of her eye, which seemed to speculate on the observers as 

 curiously as theirs did on her. But the window never being opened, 

 and care being taken not to disturb her, she arrived prosperously at the 

 termination of her maternal cares. The recollection of this occurrence 

 has given occasion to the following lines, which are at your service, if 

 you think them suited to the purposes of your Magazine. 



TO A REDBREAST, WHICH BUILT HER NEST ON THE WINDOW SILL 

 OF A PARLOUR IN THE AUTHOR'S RESIDENCE. 



Yes, 'mid the dark-green ivy-twine, 

 Couch'd in the trellis'd eglantine, 

 We mark'd that tiny form of thine, 



The spring's sweet tide ; 

 We mark'd thee weave thy mossy nest, 

 And in its hair-lined covert rest 

 Thy russet wings and ruddy breast, 



Our home beside. 



