fe, and
"gone for his holiday" into the grove, where his encounters with the
pewees kept up a little excitement for him.

When the pitiful looking little dame had succeeded in shaking off her
ne'er-do-well, the four little ones came every day on the lawn
together. Sometimes the mother came near to see how they prospered, but
oftener they were alone. They cried no more; they ran about in the
grass, and if one happened upon a fat morsel, the three others crowded
around him and asked in pretty baby fashion for a share. Often they went
to the fence, or the lower bar of the grape trellis, and there stood
pertly erect, with head leaning a little forward, as though pondering
some of the serious problems of bluebird life, but in fact concerning
themselves only with the movements in the grass, as now and then a
sudden plunge proved. Sometimes one of the group appeared alone on the
ground, when no person was about (except behind the blinds), and then he
talked with himself for company, a very charming monologue in the
inimitable bluebird tone, with modifications suggesting that a new and
wonderful song was possible to him. He was evidently too full of joy to
keep still.

The English sparrow, who had usurped the martin house in the yard,
warned him off; the tiny golden warbler, who flitted about the shrubbery
all day, threatened to annihilate him, but with infantile innocence he
refused to understand hostility; he stared at his assailant, and he held
his ground. The little flock of four was captivating to see, and though
the mother looked ragged and careless in dress, one could but honor the
little creature who had made the world so delightful a gift as four
beautiful new bluebirds, in whose calm eyes

"Shines the peace of all being without cloud."

Other young birds were plentiful in those warm July days. From morning
till night the chipping sparrow baby, with fine streaked breast, uttered
his shrill cricket-like trill. No doubt he had already found out that he
would get nothing in this world without asking, so, in order that
nothing escape him, his demand was constant. The first broods of English
sparrows had long before united in a mob, and established themselves in
the grove, and the nests were a second time full of gaping infants
calling ever for more. The energies of even this unattractive bird were
so severely taxed that he spared us his comments on things in general,
and our affairs in particular. In the wood, young