t shade of a scrub oak, and made an entry of my find in my
notebook. Alas! I had probably done harm to my little friends without
intending it, for their chirping attracted the attention of one of their
worst foes, and drew him to the spot. I loitered about for perhaps ten
minutes, and then decided to take one more peep at the pretty domicile
before leaving the hilltop. As I drew near, I observed that the parent
birds were chirping in a low, but heart-broken way, as if they were
almost stricken dumb with terror. Were they so badly frightened because
I was returning to their nest?

I stepped up cautiously and looked down at the nest. It was now my turn
to give vent to a cry of consternation, for what I saw was this: A large
blacksnake coiled about the nest, the fold of his neck wabbling to and
fro in a terrifying way, while with his mouth he was trying to seize one
of the bantlings. Fortunately I had a good-sized stick, almost a club,
in my hand, and I wasted no time in bringing it down with all the force I
could command upon the serpent, taking care to deliver the blow at the
side of the nest. The snake tried to uncoil, but another blow broke his
backbone, if indeed the first one had not done so, and he was in my
power. He had swallowed one of the nestlings, but three were left, and
seemed to be in good condition. On my return to the place a few days
later the nest was empty, and I fear that the remaining little ones had
also been destroyed, perhaps by the mate of the snake from which I had
rescued them.

On the shelf of a steep bluff covered with a riot of bushes and briars a
pair of hooded warblers found a dwelling place to their taste in the
spring of 1900. This handsome birdlet may be known by his dainty yellow
hood, bordered with black, and cannot be mistaken for any other member of
the great feathered fraternity. One cannot look at him without feeling
that Nature tried to see what she could do in the way of an unusual
arrangement of colors. Who can tell what impelled her to make a living
gem like this, as odd as it is beautiful?

On the side of the bluff referred to I was first attracted by the
vivacious song of the little male, which I had not heard for several
years--not since an excursion I had taken into Louisiana and Mississippi.
His voice was clear and ringing, and the tune he executed was by no means
a meager performance.

One day a loud, metallic chirping was heard, and presently two hooded