k
point of view almost the end of the world. Men and horses and great
rattling machines, armed with sharp knives, which laid low every stem of
grass and flower, and let the light of the sun in upon the haunts and
the nests of the bobolink babies.

Happily, however, not all the earth is meadow and subject to this annual
catastrophe; and I think the whole flock took refuge in a pasture where
they were safe from the hay-cutters, and had for neighbors only the cows
and the crow babies.

XVI.

THE TANAGER'S NEST.

One of the prettiest memory-pictures of my delightful June on the banks
of the Black River is the nest of a scarlet tanager, placed as the
keystone of one of Nature's exquisite living arches. The path which led
to it was almost as charming as the nest itself. Lifting a low-hanging
branch of maple at the entrance to the woods, we took leave of the world
and all its affairs, and stepped at once into a secluded path. Though so
near the house, the woods were solitary, for they were private and very
carefully protected. Passing up the rustic foot-path, under interlacing
boughs of maple and beech, we came at length to a sunny open spot, where
all winter grain is kept for partridges, squirrels, and other pensioners
who may choose to come. From this little opening one road turned to the
wild-berry field, where lived the cuckoo and the warblers; another
opened an inviting way into the deep woods; a third went through the
fernery. We took that, and passed on through a second lovely bit of
wood, where the ground was wet, and ferns of many kinds grew
luxuriantly, and the walk was mostly over a dainty corduroy of minute
moss-covered logs.

At the end of the fernery are two ways. The first runs along the edge of
the forest, whose outlying saplings hang over and make a cool covered
walk. Down this path I almost had an adventure one day. The morning was
warm and I was alone. As I came out of this covered passage, beside an
old stump, I noticed in a depression in the ground at my feet a
squirming mass of fur. On looking closer I saw four or five little
beasts rolling and scrambling over each other. They were as big,
perhaps, as a month-old kitten, but they were a good deal more knowing
than pussy's babies, for as I drew near they stopped their play and
waited to see what would happen. I looked at them with eager interest.
They were really beautiful; black and white in stripes, with long bushy
tails. Black and white,