countless angular fragments, and then 

 the whole mass, with scarcely any dis- 

 turbance, once more cemented into 

 firm rock. The result is such that when 

 large blocks are sawn into slabs, and 

 the slabs then polished and spread 



out, the same series of veins, of angu- 

 lar blocks and streaks of color, may be 

 traced from slab to slab, even repeat- 

 ingthemselves with only slight changes 

 throughout the entire series. — Nature 

 and Art. 



THE WHIPPOORWILL. 



MRS. MARY STRATNER. 



JT VALUED pet of ours is the 

 T^ \v\v\'<^'^oox-^\\\ox AntrostoTfins voci- 

 L \. fc^us. When most of the other 

 songsters have tucked their 

 heads under their wings our whippoor- 

 will wakes up to the business of the 

 night. 



First, he darts about catching insects 

 and moths for his babies' breakfast — 

 for this is their breakfast time — or if 

 his babies are not hatched he takes the 

 insects to the faithful mother-bird on 

 the nest. After this is done he thinks 

 his business cares are over, and he feels 

 free to enjoy himself. 



Our especial whippoorwill always 

 selects the same spot, year after year, 

 just about ten yards from our front 

 door, in a clear white space on the 

 shell-walk, and there, squatted on the 

 ground and facing us as we sit on the 

 piazza in the moonlight, he vocifer- 

 ously demands that we " whip poor 

 Will." This demand he keeps up for a 

 minute or two. Finding that we do 

 not intend to heed his request, as our 

 sturdy six-year-old Will objects, he 

 commences a low muttering kind of 

 grumbling. 



Suddenly he has a new idea and he' 

 now orders us to "Chuck Will's widow! 

 Chuck Will's widow!" but this order, 

 too, goes unheeded, as our Will has no 

 widow, and if he had why should we 

 chuck her? 



Now he does some more grumbling 

 and finally flies away. We had almost 

 forgotten him, when back he comes 

 and squats in the same place. First 

 he gives a low " Chuck, chuck;" then 

 cries out shrilly, " You free Wheeler! 

 You free Wheeler!" We know of no 

 Wheeler who needs freeing, so again 

 we cannot comply with his wishes. 



Then, as if disgusted with our un- 



responsiveness, he flies up in a near-by 

 orange tree where he laments some- 

 what like an Irishman: "O whirr-r, 

 whirro! O whirr-r, whirro!" 



He keeps this up so long that it 

 causes some sleepy boy to say: "I wish 

 that old bull-bat would be still." And 

 sometimes the boy feels tempted to 

 get up and drive him away, but he re- 

 members in time that this feathered 

 friend rids us of many obnoxious in- 

 sects. For this reason the southern 

 whippoorwill, or bull-bat, is protected 

 by law in many of the states. 



We know where otir whippoorwill 

 nests every year in May, and we often 

 pay the mother-bird a visit in order to 

 get a peep at her brown speckled eggs, 

 and later at her two brown babies; but 

 we never bother them, contenting our- 

 selves with taking their picture with a 

 kodak. 



This last is very difficult to do, for 

 mamma whippoorwill always selects 

 a dense, shady part of the woods for 

 her motherly duties. The nest is flat 

 on the ground, generally under a pal- 

 metto leaf, which keeps off the rain. 

 It is composed of dry leaves which 

 seem to have been just scratched to- 

 gether, and is not noticeable unless the 

 bird is there. Even then, the brown 

 color of the bird blends with that of 

 the ground and leaves, so that it takes 

 sharp eyes to detect her. 



When the young birds first leave the 

 nest they sprawl about in a comical 

 manner. When in repose they squat 

 flat on the ground, with wings spread 

 out to the fullest extent, and they keep 

 up a rolling motion with their bodies 

 from side to side, for all the world as 

 if they wanted to roll over, but were 

 prevented from doing so by the posi- 

 tion of their large wings. 



