I02 



Bliicbij'd Dick. 



of the wild goose, the duck, the crane and 

 innumerable waterfowl, winging their way 

 to the marshy shores of some distant lake. 



Charley was left alone in the solitary 

 graveyard, and as his eye fell on the spot 

 where the dead Bobolink had rested he saw 

 that a new mound had sprung up, and that 

 what looked like the ghost of a bobolink 

 was chained to it in a position that sug- 

 gested the most horrible tortures. He ad- 

 vanced nervously for a clear view, and 

 found that the mound was a woman's hat, 

 and that what he had mistaken for the 

 ghost of the bobolink was his stuffed skin 

 and feathers distorted into an excruciating 

 shape and the once beautiful head grinning 

 as if still in pain. 



Then Charley saw that all the mounds 

 were hats of various shapes, and presently 



they began to move, passing and repassing 

 in long procession; and now Charley found 

 that he was in the city and looking down 

 on the moving crowd of bonnets from an 

 upper window, and as he saw the mangled 

 remains of birds of every clime and color 

 pass and repass, and among them, oh so 

 many of those he had seen at the funeral, 

 the sickening dread came over him that all 

 bird life was banished from the world. 

 "Gone, all gone," he muttered mournfully. 

 A loud caw close to his ear startled him 

 from his revery and from his sleep too, and 

 springing up in bed he saw the crow fly 

 from his window sill, and opening his 

 window he heard the notes of a bobolink 

 flooding the morning air with his rich and 

 tuneful minstrelsy as he hovered over his 

 nest in the meadow. 



C. F. Amery. 



BLUEBIRD DICK, 



I. " BIRDS OF A FEATHER. 



BOBOLINK stood by the library win- 

 dow with the end of his nose pressed 

 flat upon the glass. Ten seconds stood he 

 thus; then drawing back, he clapped his 

 hands softly. "Oh, papa! here's a blue- 

 bird." Now, the birds had been away for 

 five long months, and here they were again, 

 away back from the sunny South and the 

 land of flowers. What if the snow still 

 lingered on our hillside; what if the wind 

 blew cold and those flying clouds hinted 

 darkly of a coming storm ? Did not the 

 presence of this bonnie bird mean some- 

 thing better? Would we not soon have 

 pleasant, sunny days, and our woods and 

 meadows glow in all their wild flower 

 beauty? Why shouldn't little hands (and 

 big ones too) be clapped ? 



Outdoors Bluebird Dick glanced sharply 

 at the window and then flew to the walnut 

 tree. " It's all right Dot, but we'll have to 

 stay indoors, for another storm's a-brew- 

 ing." "Oh, this box is very comfortable; 



and now, Dick" — as they snuggled up — 

 "you can tell me of this place, of your 

 friends and enemies. Are you sure that's 

 the right family?" "No doubt of it. Dot; 

 those faces at the window are just the same; 

 I saw the same yellow dog in the yard yester- 

 day and the same big Toppy duck. There's 

 the old stump where Oakie flying squirrel 

 lives with his chums Brownie and Midget. 

 These are friends, and the only enemies I 

 know are those pesky English sparrows in 

 the elm tree yonder." "Oh, I know the 

 little wretches," cried Dot; " they have plain 

 brown feathers and can't sing anything like 

 their American cousins. When not chasing 

 other birds they are spatting among them- 

 selves or rolling about in the dirt. They 

 don't build nests at all; they just build little 

 haystacks." "Ah, you had 'em there. Dot; 

 and yet we are indebted to those very ene- 

 mies. For when papa and mamma decided 

 to build last spring, that red box in the 

 south gable suited them exactly. They were 

 hardly settled down when the sparrows 



