BOYHOOD AND BIRDS. 
71 
Oh ! I wouldn't lose them for the world ! catch them ! catch 
them !" 
I shrieked in my agony — for I had got myself hung upon 
that knot by the remaining rags of my clothes, and the 
dread of losing my birds was even greater than that of 
breaking my neck. The old gentleman heartily sympathiz- 
ing with me, sprung to the work right briskly, and, although 
they compelled him to let them go several times by the se- 
verity of their bites, yet he finally succeeded in capturing 
three, which were fastened down under my hat. 
During the chase, I heard several very droll exclamations 
from him which gave me a decidedly contemptible opinion 
of his attainments as a naturalist. As he shook one of the 
fierce little wretches off — that had fastened upon his finger 
when he tried to seize it — he cried out with an exclamation 
of pain and surprise — 
" Ough ! Young mocking birds didn't bite that fashion 
in old Virginia — my boy ! Don't like that black spot under 
the eye 1 They do look mightly like mocking birds, too ! 
How they do squall! Why they're as strong as young 
wild cats, and as fierce too ! There ! there ! that one's gone !" 
" Grone where ?" I gasped, as I descended the tree with a 
speed which seemed much more like falling than climbing 
down, and completed the demolishment of my forlorn inex- 
pressibles. 
" He ran under these rocks and you'll never get him 
again, I'm afraid." 
"Never get him?" and I almost burst into tears at the 
thought of losing one of my precious new variety. The 
spring came from under a sort of cave, and there were loose 
piles of stone intended once for walls on each side of the 
basin. Into these the cunning youngster had crawled, and 
was far enough beyond our reach. I consoled myself by 
heaping stones so as to prevent its escape, and determined 
to go home and secure the prize in hand, and then return 
with a negro man to dig this one out for me. This was not 
