as on
the edge of the bank, high above the stream, shaded by a group of black
and battered old spruces that looked as if they had faced the storms of
a hundred stern Maine winters, as probably they had. Pine-trees at my
back filled the air with odors; a thicket beloved of small birds
stretched away at one side. Across the river spread a sunny knoll, on
which stood a huge old apple-tree, contemporary perhaps with the
spruces, having one attractive dead branch, and surrounded at a little
distance with a semi-circle of shrubs and low trees. It was a tempting
theatre for bird dramas, which the solitary student, half hidden on the
bank above, could overlook and bring to clear vision with a glass, while
not herself conspicuous enough to startle the actors. In this lovely
spot many mornings of that happy July passed delightfully away.

In the leafy background to the apple-tree dwelt the veery. From its
apparently impenetrable depths came his warning calls, and on rare and
blessed occasions his heavenly song; for it was July, and it is only in
June that

"New England woods at close of day,
With that clear chant are ringing."

For, with all the rhapsody in his soul, this thrush is a devoted parent,
and notwithstanding the fact that he is one of the kings of song, he
comes down like the humblest sparrow of the fields, to help feed and
train his lovely tawny brood. Without exception that I know, he is the
most utterly heartbroken of birds when the nest is discovered. So
pathetic are the wails of both parents that I never could bear to study
a nest, and I had to harden my heart against the bleating, despairing
cries of the mother before I could secure even a look at a youngster
just out of the nest. This scion of the charming thrush family is a
patient little soul, with all the dignity and reserve as well as the
gentleness of his race; no human child could be more winning.

A beautiful instance might be seen in that spot of Nature's provident
way of looking out for the future. Those battered old spruces had a
flourishing colony of young trees growing up all around and under the
shade of their wings, and some day when a great wind breaks off the
decayed old ones, there will be several vigorous half-grown young, to
take their place, so the place will not be left desolate a day. If man
would only take this hint in his own treatment of trees, leave the young
ones to take the place of those he removes, we should not have to drea