Woodside | Page 5

village, which
joined an old town so closely that they seemed to be only one place.
The old town was quiet now; but it had been a very busy place many
years ago, in the old coach days. I cannot tell you how many coaches
daily ran through it, or changed horses at the different inns, on their
way from London to towns in distant parts of England.
Now the railway had stopped every coach, and in the valley, through
these very woods, the trains rushed along, panting and puffing as if
they were running a race with Time.
Fortunately, the trains ran through a tunnel at this spot, so the beauty of
the woods was not disturbed.
There was a large green belonging to the village, on the edge of which

lived the children's aunt Lizzie, who had married a doctor. She had two
children--Tom, who was eleven years old, and Katey, who was nine.
They went to school daily in the adjoining town, so they were unable to
see much of their cousins, excepting upon half-holidays, as it was now
school time.
But you must not suppose that Jack and his sisters did nothing but play
during this long visit. As soon as they had settled down, grandmamma
engaged a young lady to come to teach them for about two hours every
morning. Woodside was too far from the town for the children to go to
school with their cousins. When they were at home they went to a
kindergarten school, where they learned in the wisest and pleasantest
fashion.
[Illustration: TOM SHOWING THE REDBREAST'S EGGS. Page 29.]
The children always looked forward to the half-holidays, when they
either went up to their cousins' home, or Tom and Katey came down to
them.
One Saturday afternoon, when they went to the green, Tom showed
them his collection of birds' eggs. He kept them in shallow boxes full of
bran, so that they should not get broken, for he was very careful over
them.
Tom's mother told him never to take more than one egg from each nest,
unless there were a great many, as there are in wrens' nests, so that the
mother bird might not grieve.
"Please show us a robin redbreast's egg," said little Annie.
Tom took two or three from under the bran, and showed her the eggs,
which were yellowish-gray mottled with red-brown.
"Mrs. Redbreast has not nearly so red a breast as Robin," he said.
"I suppose you have plenty of sparrows' eggs," said Mary, "they are
such common birds."

"Yes; here they are. They are rather large for the size of the bird; they
are spotted and streaked all over with gray and brown."
"What a lovely pale greenish-blue egg that is!" exclaimed Mary.
"Yes, that it is," said Tom; "and it belongs to a dear little brown
bird--the hedge-sparrow. It is not at all the same kind of bird as the
house-sparrow, for it is one of the warblers. It is a prettier bird, and has
prettier eggs than the common sparrow. He builds his nest very early,
before the hedges are covered with leaves; so his nest often gets stolen.
He is one of the birds that stay in England all through the
winter.--These speckled eggs of a bluish-gray belong to the linnet,
which has a very sweet song, although not very powerful.--These
belong to the chaffinch; they, you see, are greenish-purple spotted with
brown. See here! I have a nest made by this bird."
"It is perfectly lovely," said Mary.
"It is, indeed; it is one of the most beautiful of all the birds' nests--such
a nice round shape, and so firm that it does not easily fall to pieces.
Inside it is lined with hair and feathers, and downy things, which make
it ever so soft. Just put your finger inside, Annie, and feel it. Outside it
is made of moss, fine dry grass, and wool, all matted together, and
covered all over with the lichen which grows on the trunks and
branches of trees. It is often very difficult to find this bird's nest, it
looks so exactly like the part of a tree."
"Have you a blackbird's egg?" asked Jack. "I know his note, for it is
clear and louder than that of most of the other birds."
"Yes, here are some. You see they are of a bluish-green colour, with
dark blotches; and very pretty they are too.--Those blue eggs with a few
black spots on them belong to the thrush. You must have heard the
thrushes singing about grandpa's garden; there are plenty of them
there."
"I'm afraid you haven't a cuckoo's egg, Tom," said Annie.

"I am so lucky as to have one, Annie. It is very small for the size of the
bird, and not