294 
OUR HOME BIRDS. 
“ I was in the country, and one day in the depth 
of winter I heard a wonderful commotion, in the way 
of twittering and flying, that could only proceed from 
birds of some kind, but, though I gazed from the 
window in all directions, not a bird could I see. I 
looked first on the roof of a part of the building that 
stretched just below me on the left, but nothing was 
to be seen there ; I gazed up into the tall trees around 
the house, but not a bird was visible on the naked 
branches ; I stared down at the ground, but with no 
better success. Meanwhile, the noise was going on 
in my very ears ; there was chattering, scolding, chir- 
ruping, twittering, and every sound that a large as- 
sembly of little birds could possibly make, yet never 
a feather could I see anywhere. What was to be 
done about it? Things certainly looked very queer. 
Just beneath my window there was an evergreen 
honeysuckle, so trained that it formed a tall narrow 
bower that would have made a charming ‘ baby- 
house/ with room inside for plenty of dolls and fur- 
niture. You see, it did not rest against the wall, but 
occupied nearly the whole of a small round bed. My 
eyes happened to rest upon it, and saw first one little 
brown head and then another — some popping out, 
and some popping in ; and such a flying up and 
down inside! The honeysuckle was like a great 
roomy cage which they could leave whenever they 
