h for a
bobolink's nest again. "Clumsy monsters that we are," said she; "the
poor thing's nest is crushed into the dirt!"

When we came to mow that swale a few days after, Gramp first marvelled,
then grumbled repeatedly; for the grass was in a mat. He spoke of it at
the dinner table that day, making a covert accusation against Gram,
whereupon Theodora and I owned up in the matter, Doad naively adding
that we had done it "on the strength of Gram's original permit," but
that we had agreed never to do so again. The Old Squire laughed a little
grimly and said he wanted it understood, that the permit, alluded to,
was not transferable. But the old lady now interposed her opinion, that
the permit could be made a moderate use of by others, if she saw
fit--and needed strawberries.

A pair of blue-birds built their nest in a box which Addison had nailed
to a short pole and set up in the barnyard wall; and every morning, as
we milked the cows, we would hear their plaintive notes, repeated over
and over to each other as they flew about;--"Deary, cheer up, Deary,
cheer up!" as if life needed constant mutual consolation, to be
supported. "Old Ummy," the house cat, was much inclined to watch their
box and once attempted to climb up to them.

Two pairs of peewees built about the premises, one just inside the south
barn cellar, the other under a projecting window-sill at the end of the
wagon-house. These two pairs, or younger birds reared there, had built
in these same places for seven or eight years. Night and morning as we
milked, and at noon also, as we sat grinding scythes at the well, those
old peewees would alight on posts, or gables, rub their beaks twice on
the dry wood and cry, "Peewee, peewee, peewitic; pewee, peer-a-zitic!"
For some not very good reason, I took a boyish dislike to peewees. They
are very useful birds, great destroyers of worms, moths and flies, and
so far as I know, never do the slightest harm, which can hardly be said
of all our feathered favorites.

As we hoed potatoes and corn on those green June days, the song of the
little gray ground sparrows was constantly in my ears, although the
others seemed not to notice it.

"And what does that one say?" I asked Gramp.

"What one?" the old gentleman asked.

"Why, that bird! It sings all the time," I rejoined. "Don't you hear
it?"

He stopped and appeared to listen, at a loss, for a minute, as to what I
heard.

"Oh, those sparrows," replied he, at length