--Elizabeth Cavazza




CHAPTER I

THE ORCHARD

Bobolink, that in the meadow
Or beneath the orchard's shadow
Keepest up a constant rattle,
Joyous as my children's prattle,
Welcome to the North again.
--_Thos. Hill._


My native home was in a pleasant meadow not far from a deep wood, at
some distance from the highway. From this it was separated by plowed
fields and a winding country lane, carpeted with grass and fringed with
daisies.

While it was yet dawn, long before the glint of the sun found its way
through the foliage, the air was musical with the twittering of our
feathered colony.

It is true our noisy neighbors, the blue-jays, sometimes disturbed my
mother by their hoarse chattering when she was weary of wing and wanted
a quiet hour to meditate, but they disturbed us younger ones very