Jfor ^oung 0b^tx\)tv& 



The Rev. Mr. Chickadee, D. D. 



By FLORENCE A. VAN SANT, Jay. Essex County. N. Y. 



A little clergyman is he, 



With black and white cravat ; 



He bears a coveted degree, 

 And wears a soft silk hat. 



With happy heart and merry voice. 

 He braves the cold and heat ; 



And to the loved one of his choice, 

 He whistles soft and sweet. 



So overflowing is his strain, His sect is congregational. 



That he could dub "D.D." The wild woods are his church. 



Young theologues with meager brain The wind his "choir invisible," 



And bump of vanity. His pulpit is a birch. 



The sermon we should not forget, 



" Happy and cheerful be. 

 Have diligence, be brave, don't fret," 



Says Chickadee, D.D. 



My Exploit with a Crossbill 



BY NINA NIGHTINGALE. Wellesley Hills. Mass. (Aged q'A years) 



ONE day some time in January I went to play with a friend. 

 We went out on the lawn to watch some birds we had seen 

 there. When we got out we tried to see how near we could 

 get without frightening them. 



I followed them all around and succeeded in getting quite near. 

 They would sometimes allow me to touch them, but I could not pick 

 them up. I decided they were Crossbills, and so that is what I will 

 call them. I went in the house and got a small piece of bread to 

 crumb for them. That was soon gone, though the birds would not 

 touch it. I got another piece and some crackers, which I sprinkled 



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