The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 17, No. 101, March, 1866 | Page 6

night, may be heard puffing and
panting, as if it uttered groans for being compelled to labor in the heat
and sunshine, and when the world is asleep also.

* * * * *
Monday, July 31st.--Nothing remarkable to record. A child asleep in a
young lady's arms,--a little baby, two or three months old. Whenever
anything partially disturbed the child, as, for instance, when the young
lady or a by-stander patted its cheek or rubbed its chin, the child would
smile; then all its dreams seemed to be of pleasure and happiness. At
first the smile was so faint, that I doubted whether it were really a smile
or no; but on further efforts, it brightened forth very decidedly. This,
without opening its eyes.--A constable, a homely, good-natured,
business-looking man, with a warrant against an Irishman's wife for
throwing a brickbat at a fellow. He gave good advice to the Irishman
about the best method of coming easiest through the affair. Finally
settled,--the justice agreeing to relinquish his fees, on condition that the
Irishman would pay for the mending of his old boots!
I went with Monsieur S---- yesterday to pick raspberries. He fell
through an old log bridge thrown over a hollow; looking back, only his
head and shoulders appeared through the rotten logs and among the
bushes.--A shower coming on, the rapid running of a little barefooted
boy, coming up unheard, and dashing swiftly past us, and showing the
soles of his naked feet as he ran adown the path before us, and up the
opposite rise.
* * * * *
Tuesday, August 1st.--There having been a heavy rain yesterday, a nest
of chimney-swallows was washed down the chimney into the fireplace
of one of the front-rooms. My attention was drawn to them by a most
obstreperous twittering; and looking behind the fire-board, there were
three young birds, clinging with their feet against one of the jambs,
looking at me, open-mouthed, and all clamoring together, so as quite to
fill the room with the short, eager, frightened sound. The old birds, by
certain signs upon the floor of the room, appeared to have fallen
victims to the appetite of the cat. La belle Nancy provided a basket
filled with cotton-wool, into which the poor little devils were put; and I
tried to feed them with soaked bread, of which, however, they did not
eat with much relish. Tom, the Irish boy, gave it as his opinion that

they were not old enough to be weaned. I hung the basket out of the
window, in the sunshine, and upon looking in, an hour or two after,
found that two of the birds had escaped. The other I tried to feed, and
sometimes, when a morsel of bread was thrust into its open mouth, it
would swallow it. But it appeared to suffer a good deal, vociferating
loudly when disturbed, and panting, in a sluggish agony, with eyes
closed, or half opened, when let alone. It distressed me a good deal; and
I felt relieved, though somewhat shocked, when B---- put an end to its
misery by squeezing its head and throwing it out of the window. They
were of a slate-color, and might, I suppose, have been able to shift for
themselves.--The other day a little yellow bird flew into one of the
empty rooms, of which there are half a dozen on the lower floor, and
could not find his way out again, flying at the glass of the windows,
instead of at the door, thumping his head against the panes or against
the ceiling. I drove him into the entry and chased him from end to end,
endeavoring to make him fly through one of the open doors. He would
fly at the circular light over the door, clinging to the casement,
sometimes alighting on one of the two glass lamps, or on the cords that
suspended them, uttering an affrighted and melancholy cry whenever I
came near and flapped my handkerchief, and appearing quite tired and
sinking into despair. At last he happened to fly low enough to pass
through the door, and immediately vanished into the gladsome
sunshine.--Ludicrous situation of a man, drawing his chaise down a
sloping bank, to wash in the river. The chaise got the better of him, and,
rushing downward as if it were possessed, compelled him to run at full
speed, and drove him up to his chin into the water. A singular instance,
that a chaise may run away with a man without a horse!
* * * * *
Saturday, August 12th.--Left Augusta a week ago this morning for
Thomaston. Nothing particular in our drive across the country.
Fellow-passenger, a Boston dry-goods dealer, travelling to collect bills.
At many of the country shops he would get out, and