1891.] 
765 
sK*srawi*rts.". 
A Widow and Twins. 
A WIDOW AND TWINS. 
“ The fatherless and the widow . . . shall eat 
and he satisfied.” — Deuteronomy xiv. 29. 
On the 1st of June, 1890, I formally 
broke away from ornithological pursuits. 
For two months, more or less, — till the 
autumnal migration should set in, — I 
was determined to have my thoughts 
upon other matters. There is no more 
desirable plaything than an outdoor hob- 
by, but a man ought not to be forever in 
the saddle. Such, at all events, had al- 
ways been my opinion, so that I long 
ago promised myself never to become, 
what some of my acquaintances, perhaps 
with too much reason, were now begin- 
ning to consider me, a naturalist,, and 
nothing else. That would be letting the 
hobbyhorse run away with its owner. 
For the time being, then, birds should 
pass unnoticed, or be looked at only 
when they came in my way. A sensible 
resolve. But the maker of it was nei- 
ther Mede nor Persian, as the reader, if 
he have patience enough, may presently 
discover for himself. 
As I sat upon the piazza, in the heat 
of the day, busy or half busy with a 
book, a sound of humming-bird’s wings 
now and then fell on my ear, and, as 
I looked toward the honeysuckle vine, 
I began after a while to remark that 
the visitor was invariably a female. I 
watched her probe the scarlet tubes and 
dart away, and then returned to my 
page. She might have a nest some- 
where near ; but if she had there was 
small likelihood of my finding it, and, 
besides, I was just now not concerned 
with such trifles. On the 24th of June, 
however, a passing neighbor dropped 
into the yard. Was I interested in hum- 
ming-birds ? he inquired. If so, he 
could show me a nest. I put down my 
book, and went with him at once. 
The beautiful structure, a model of 
artistic workmanship, was near the end 
of one of the lower branches of an 
apple-tree, eight or ten feet from the 
ground, saddled upon the drooping limb 
at a point where two offshoots made 
a good holding-place, while an upright 
twig spread over it a leafy canopy 
against rain and sun. Had the build- 
ers sought my advice as to a location, I 
could hardly have suggested one better 
suited to my own convenience. The 
tree was within a stone’s toss of my 
window, and, better still, the nest was 
overlooked to excellent advantage from 
an old bank wall which divided my pre- 
mises from those of my next-door neigh- 
bor. How could I doubt that Provi- 
dence itself had set me a summer les- 
son ? 
At our first visit the discoverer of the 
nest — from that moment an ornitholo- 
gist — brought out a step-ladder, and 
we looked in upon the two tiny white 
eggs, considerately improving a tempo- 
rary absence of the owner for that pur- 
pose. It was a picture to please not 
only the eye, but the imagination ; and 
before I could withdraw my gaze the 
mother bird was back again, whisking 
about my head so fearlessly that for a 
moment I stood still, half expecting her 
to drop into the nest within reach of my 
hand. 
This, as I have said, was on the 24th 
of June. Six days later, on the after- 
noon of the 30th, the eggs were found 
to be hatched, and two lifeless-looking 
things lay in the bottom of the nest, 
their heads tucked out of sight, and 
their bodies almost or quite naked, ex- 
cept for a line of grayish down along 
the middle of the back. 
Meanwhile, I had been returning with 
interest the visits of the bird to our 
honeysuckle, and by this time had fairly 
worn a path to a certain point in the 
wall, where, comfortably seated in the 
