ding upright, to move freely beneath it. There is a delicious
spring of water there, and plenty of wild, cool air. The floor is of
loose stone, now trod by sheep and foxes, once by the Indian and the
wolf. How I have delighted from boyhood to spend a summer day in
this retreat, or take refuge there from a sudden shower! Always the
freshness and coolness, and always the delicate mossy nest of the
phoebe-bird! The bird keeps her place till you are within a few
feet of her, when she flits to a near branch, and, with many
oscillations of her tail, observes you anxiously. Since the country
has become settled, this pewee has fallen into the strange practice
of occasionally placing its nest under a bridge, hay-shed, or other
artificial structure, where it is subject to all kinds of
interruptions and annoyances. When placed thus, the nest is larger
and coarser. I know a hay-loft beneath which a pair has regularly
placed its nest for several successive seasons. Arranged along on a
single pole, which sags down a few inches from the flooring it was
intended to help support, are three of these structures, marking the
number of years the birds have nested there. The foundation is of
mud with a superstructure of moss, elaborately lined with hair and
feathers. Nothing can be more perfect and exquisite than the
interior of one of these nests, yet a new one is built every
season. Three broods, however, are frequently reared in it.

The pewees, as a class, are the best architects we have. The
kingbird builds a nest altogether admirable, using various soft
cotton and woolen substances, and sparing neither time nor material
to make it substantial and warm. The green-crested pewee builds its
nest in many instances wholly of the blossoms of the white oak. The
wood pewee builds a neat, compact, socket-shaped nest of moss and
lichens on a horizontal branch. There is never a loose end or shred
about it. The sitting bird is largely visible above the rim. She
moves her head freely about and seems entirely at her ease,--a
circumstance which I have never observed in any other species. The
nest of the great-crested flycatcher is seldom free from snake
skins, three or four being sometimes woven into it.

About the thinnest, shallowest nest, for its situation, that can be
found is that of the turtle-dove. A few sticks and straws are
carelessly thrown together, hardly sufficient to prevent the eggs
from falling through or rolling off. The nest of the