THE PHCEBE. 



3t5 



another month, but that homesickness for old Ohio which her sons and daugh- 

 ters know so well, mastered him, and he could not stay away. Arrived in the 

 old haunts, the pussy-willows nod pleasantly at the venturesome bird, but 

 unfamiliar pools frown icily, and he is obliged to court the shelter of some 

 protecting bank until the purposes of spring are a little stronger grown. Here 

 he utters from time to time a plaintive tsip of discontent, or shivers miserably 

 as a fresh blast of Boreas discovers his retreat. Doubtless he recalls on such 

 occasions the bitter irony of the old rhyme, which must have originated in a 

 sunnier land : 



I'lhKI'.l'.'S NI>T IN r.OC CAIMN. 



"On March the Twenty-first 'tis spring, 

 When little birds begin to sing; 

 To build their nests ; to raise their brood 

 With tender care provide them food." 



"Here it is the Twenty-first of March, but where is their spring? Tsip! 

 Nothing but gray skies and a cold wind. Ugh ! — and bleary patches of snow ! 

 Tsip! It is really too bad! Tsip! Tsip!" But a day or so later the sun 

 shines out and Mrs. Phoebe, rrn ire prudent but scarcely less eager, arrives from 

 the south, and the pair set bravely to work nest-building. 



