distress and prattle of infants, songs of love and
screams of war, alike fall upon deaf ears, while we calmly discuss the
last book or the news from Borriboo-lah-Gha, as completely oblivious as
if all this stirring life did not exist.

To be sure these things take place in the "upper stories," as Thoreau
says, but they are none the less audible, and one is tempted to believe
that bird voices are on a scale to which the untrained ear is not
attuned. Once learn to hear, and nature is full of life and interest.
The home affairs of our little neighbors whose modest cottage swings on
a branch of the elm beside the door are more attractive than those of
our fellow creatures in the house across the way partly because they are
so open in their lives that our attentions do not seem intrusive, but
more because their ways are not so familiar. We can guess how men and
women pass their time, but we cannot guess why the cat-bird always sings
from the middle of one particular shrub, nor where he has hidden his
dusky spouse and nest full of babies; and after we know him we are eager
to discover.

Upon reaching the charming home of a friend in Massachusetts last June,
almost the first thing I saw was a pair of purple crow blackbirds in
trouble. First arose a medley of queer husky tones, clamorous baby
cries, and excited oriole voices, with violent agitation of the leaves
of a tall elm, ending with the sudden exit of a blackbird, closely
followed by a pair of Baltimore orioles. The pursued flew leisurely
across the lawn, plainly in no haste, and not at all with the air of the
thief and nest robber he is popularly supposed to be. Clearly the elm
belonged by bird custom to the orioles, for their pretty swinging
hammock could be seen partly hidden by leaves, about halfway up the
tree, and what business other than that of marauder had the sombre-hued
enemy upon it?

Now the blackbird has no secrets in his life; the whole world is welcome
to know his affairs, and in fact he proclaims them loudly himself. It
was easy to see that he had anxiety enough of his own just then,
without thinking of disturbing his neighbors, for he was engaged in the
task of introducing his young family to the world, and every bird
watcher knows that is attended with almost as many difficulties as is
the same operation in what we call "society."

If the youngster escape the dangers peculiar to the nest, the devouring
jaws of squirrel or owl, the hands of the egg