4 BJRD WORLD. 



About the last of March every year a citizen of 

 Massachusetts, who has spent the winter farther south, 

 returns to the spot and calls out his name from the 

 trees about the shore, " Phoe-bee ! Phoe-bee ! " stopping 

 now and then to dart over the water for a gnat or fly, 

 and snapping his tail when he returns to the tree. 



An old man w^io has lived in the neighborhood for 

 many years says that when he was a boy, seventy 

 years ago, the Phoebe came every year just as it does 

 to-day, and he and his sister visited the mill every 

 April to find the neat, well-built nest which the bird 

 placed on the rafters of the mill. 



The buzzing and whirring of the wheel, and the 

 grinding sound made by the heavy millstones did not 

 disturb either the parent birds or their young. The 

 miller knew them and gladly let them use his roof for 

 shelter. 



The boy and his sister loved them too, and never 

 stole the nest nor frightened them. To-day the mill 

 is torn down, but on the very spot where it stood 

 they find the bridge, and under it the strong beams 

 that support it. Here they still build their nest ; the 

 water foams and splashes below them ; people, and 

 sometimes horses and wagons, tramp over them, but 

 they have no fear. In spite of all the changes, they 

 prefer their old home to any other. 



The old man and his sister must soon pass away, 



