THE BLUEBIRD. 



DO you believe that a Bluebird would think of com- 

 ing to New England in February ? 



One bright, crisp morning in the last month of 

 winter, I heard a clear, lively, little song that I knew, 

 and of course I hastened to find my friend, the Blue- 

 bird. The " Blue Robin" little children sometimes call 

 him, and indeed he is a cousin to the Robin family. 



He was very cunning at hiding in the old apple 

 tree, and very shy when I found him. 



Soon there was a nest, and a little later a family of 

 five, one being a guest w^ho had traveled north for the 

 first time, perhaps, and was not in haste to have the 

 care of a family. He never did any work, but flitted 

 about as if made simply to enjoy himself and be 

 admired. 



If you had seen him, you would have thought it 

 very natural. Such a putting together of heavenly 

 blue, and w^arm, rich, yellowish red would be enough 

 to turn any head that was not full of earnest purpose. 



The home was built by the bird mother in the 

 orchard wdiere I could easily watch it, and w^e became 

 very good friends, these dear Bluebirds and I. They 



