another kind, more imperious and
tender, at length reconciled, or at least terminated, these disputes
with the jealous females; and by the aid of the neighboring bachelors,
who are never wanting among these and other birds, peace was at length
completely restored by the restitution of the quiet and happy
condition of monogamy."

Let me not forget to mention the nest under the mountain ledge, the
nest of the common pewee,--a modest mossy structure, with four
pearl-white eggs,--looking out upon some wild scene and overhung by
beetling crags. After all has been said about the elaborate, high-hung
structures, few nests perhaps awaken more pleasant emotions in the
mind of the beholder than this of the pewee,--the gray, silent rocks,
with caverns and dens where the fox and the wolf lurk, and just out of
their reach, in a little niche, as if it grew there, the mossy
tenement!

Nearly every high projecting rock in any range has one of these nests.
Following a trout stream up a wild mountain gorge, not long since, I
counted five in the distance of a mile, all within easy reach, but
safe from the minks and the skunks, and well housed from the storms.
In my native town I know a pine and oak clad hill, round-topped, with
a bold, precipitous front extending halfway around it. Near the top,
and along this front or side, there crops out a ledge of rocks
unusually high and cavernous. One immense layer projects many feet,
allowing a person or many persons, standing upright, to move freely
beneath it. There is a delicious spring of water there, and plenty of
wild, cool air. The floor is of loose stone, now trod by sheep and
foxes, once by Indian and wolf. How I have delighted from boyhood to
spend a summer day in this retreat, or take refuge there from a sudden
shower! Always the freshness and coolness, and always the delicate
mossy nest of the phoebe-bird! The bird keeps her place till you are
within a few feet of her, when she flits to a near branch, and, with
many oscillations of her tale, observes you anxiously. Since the
country has become settled this pewee has fallen into the strange
practice of occasionally placing its nest under a bridge, hayshed, or
other artificial structure, where it is subject to all kinds of
interruptions and annoyances. When placed thus, the nest is larger and
coarser. I know a hay-loft beneath which a pair has regularly placed
its nest for several successive seasons. Arranged along on a single
pole, wh