d all his man[oe]uvres failed. I
seated myself on the ground, for now I heard low, soft baby calls, and
determined to stay there till the crack of doom, or till I had solved
the mystery of those calls.

But I did not stay so long, and I did not see the babies. An hour or two
of watching weakened my determination, and slowly and sadly I wended my
way homeward; admiring, while I execrated, the too, too clever tactics
of the chat. But I did make one discovery,--that a sound which had
puzzled me, like the distant blow of an axe against a tree, must be
added to the _repertoire_ of the chat mother. I saw her utter it, and
saw the strange movement of the throat in doing so. The sound seemed to
come up in bubbles, which distended her throat on the outside exactly as
if they had been beads as big as shoe buttons.

I was not to be wholly disappointed. Fate had one crumb of consolation
for me, for I saw at last a chat baby. He was a quiet, well-behaved
little fellow, with streaks on throat and breast, and dull yellow
underparts. His manners were subdued, and gave no hint of the bumptious
acrobat he might live to be.

While the vagaries of chat life had been drawing me down toward the
lane, the feathered world on the other side of the house had not been
idle; and glad now to avoid the ruined lane and the deserted berry
patch, I turned my attention to a bird drama nearer home, the story of
which must have a chapter to itself.

VI.

THE "BIRD OF THE MUSICAL WING."

Mr. Bradford Torrey has started an inquiry into the conduct of the
ruby-throated hummingbird, who is said, contrary to the habits of the
feathered world in general, to absent himself from his family during the
time that his mate is brooding and rearing the young. The question of
interest to settle is his motive in so doing. Does he consider his
brilliant ruby dangerous to the safety of the nest, and so deny himself
the pleasure as well as the pain of family life? Does he selfishly
desert outright, and return to bachelor ways, when his mate settles
herself to her domestic duties? Or does the pugnacious little creature
herself decline not only his advice and counsel, but even his presence?

This problem in the life of the bird has lent new interest to its study,
and I was greatly pleased, last summer, when the bursting into bloom of
a trumpet creeper, which clad with beauty the branches of an old
locust-tree, attracted to the door of my temporary home this