IF BIKDS COULD TALK. 



Now that spring has come, the birds are 

 singiug their sweetest carols, giving free opera 

 festivals in grove and meadow, and many of 

 them are building cozy nests in the grass and 

 bushes. Of course, in pleasant weather the 

 boys and girls can not stay indoors, or even in 

 town, but will want to ramble out through the 

 beckoning country. Perha23s they will find 

 some birds' nests. 



What do you suppose the feathered owners 

 would say if they could talk ? But they can 

 talk, only we do not understand their dialect, 

 for they chatter and chirp bird talk and not 

 English. What do you think that song spar- 

 row says as he flits about so uneasily ? We 

 may readily imagine. 



" Don't rob my nest in the grass, please," 

 is what he means by his pitiful chirping. 

 " Those eggs are my treasures, and I think as 

 much of them as you do of your new marbles, 

 and more, because they will become little spar- 



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