breeze having blown the minor part away. Such unambitious, quiet,
unconscious melody! It is one of the most characteristic sounds in
nature. The grass, the stones, the stubble, the furrow, the quiet
herds, and the warm twilight among the hills, are all subtly expressed
in this song; this is what they are at last capable of.

The female builds a plain nest in the open field, without so much as a
bush or thistle or tuft of grass to protect it or mark its site; you
may step upon it, or the cattle may tread it into the ground. But the
danger from this source, I presume, the bird considers less than that
from another. Skunks and foxes have a very impertinent curiosity, as
Finchie well knows; and a bank or hedge, or a rank growth of grass or
thistles, that might promise protection and cover to mouse or bird,
these cunning rogues would be apt to explore most thoroughly. The
partridge is undoubtedly acquainted with the same process of
reasoning; for, like the vesper-bird, she, too, nests in open,
unprotected places, avoiding all show of concealment,--coming from the
tangled and almost impenetrable parts of the forest to the clean, open
woods, where she can command all the approaches and fly with equal
ease in any direction.

Another favorite sparrow, but little noticed, is the wood or bush
sparrow, usually called by the ornithologists Spizella pusilla. Its
size and form is that of the socialis, but is less distinctly marked,
being of a duller redder tinge. He prefers remote bushy heathery
fields, where his song is one of the sweetest to be heard. It is
sometimes very noticeable, especially early in spring. I remember
sitting one bright day in the still leafless April woods, when one of
these birds struck up a few rods from me, repeating its lay at short
intervals for nearly an hour. It was a perfect piece of wood-music,