penness that,
it seemed to me, must disarm their most bitter enemy. When I came upon
such a pair, as I frequently did, on the low branch of an apple-tree or
a limb of their native cedar, I stopped instantly to look at them. Not
an eyelid of the youngsters would move; if a head were turned as they
heard me coming, it would remain at precisely that angle as long as I
had patience to stay. They were invariably sitting down with the
appearance of being prepared to stay all day, and almost always side by
side, though looking in different directions, and one was always larger
than the other. A lovely and picturesque group they never failed to
make, and as for any show of hunger or impatience, one could hardly
imagine they ever felt either. In every way they were a violent
contrast to all their neighbors, the boisterous blue jays, lively
catbirds, blustering robins, and vulgar-mannered blackbirds.

Sometimes I chanced upon a mother sitting by her youngling, and although
when I found her alone she always flew, beside her little charge she was
dignified and calm in bearing, and looked at me with fearless eyes,
relying, as it appeared, upon absolute stillness, and the resemblance of
her color to the branches, to escape observation; a ruse which must
generally be successful.

The nest, the remains of which I often saw on the tree where I found an
infant, was the merest apology, hardly more than a platform, just enough
to hold the pair of eggs which they are said always to contain. Indeed,
no baby but a serene dove, with the repose of thirty generations behind
it, could stay in it till his wings grew. As it is, he must be forced to
perch, whether ready or not, for the structure cannot hold together
long. The wonder is that the eggs do not roll out before they are
hatched.

Several things made the bird an interesting subject for study; his
reputation for meekness, his alleged silence,--except at wooing
time,--and the halo of melancholy with which the poets have invested
him. I resolved to make acquaintance with my gentle neighbor, and I
sought and found a favorite retreat of the silent family. This was a
grove away down in the southeast corner of the grounds, little visited
by people, and beloved by birds of several kinds. Till June was half
over, the high grass, that I could not bear to trample, prevented
exploration in that direction, but as soon as it was cut I made a trip
to the little grove, and found it a sort of doves' hea