e founded a colony had not the jingling teams and now and
then a barking dog disturbed them. Resting on the bench and leaning
back against an apple-tree, it is easy to watch the eager starlings
on the chimney-top, and see them tear out the straw of the thatch to
form their holes. They are all orators born. They live in a
democracy, and fluency of speech leads the populace. Perched on the
edge of the chimney, his bronze-tinted wings flapping against his
side to give greater emphasis--as a preacher moves his hands--the
starling pours forth a flood of eloquence, now rising to
screaming-pitch, now modulating his tones to soft persuasion, now
descending to deep, low, complaining, regretful sounds--a speech
without words--addressed to a dozen birds gravely listening on the
ash-tree yonder. He is begging them to come with him to a meadow
where food is abundant. In the ivy close under the window there,
within reach of the hand, a water-wagtail built its nest. To this
nest one lovely afternoon came a great bird like a hawk, to the
fearful alarm and intense excitement of all the bird population. It
was a cuckoo, and after three or four visits, despite a curious eye
at the window, there was a strange egg in that nest. Inside that
window, huddled fearfully in the darkest corner of the room, there
was once a tiny heap of blue and yellow feathers. A tomtit straying
through the casement had been chased by the cat till it dropped
exhausted, and the cat was fortunately frightened by a footstep. The
bird was all but dead--the feathers awry and ruffled, the eyelids
closed, the body limp and helpless--only a faint fluttering of the
tiny heart. When placed tenderly on the ledge of the casement, where
the warm sunshine fell and the breeze came softly, it dropped
listlessly on one side. But in a little while the life-giving rays
quickened the blood, the eyelids opened, and presently it could
stand perched upon the finger. Then, lest with returning
consciousness fear should again arise, the clinging claws were
transferred from the finger to a twig of wall-pear. A few minutes
more, and with a chirp the bird was gone into the flood of sunlight.
What intense joy there must have been in that little creature's
heart as it drank the sweet air and felt the loving warmth of its
great god Ra, the Sun!

Throwing open the little wicket-gate, by a step the greensward of
the meadow is reached. Though the grass has been mown and the ground
is dry, it is b