102 



THE RUFFED GROUSE. 



Who knows the joy a bird knows, 



When it goes fleetly? 

 Who knows the joy a flower knows, 



When it blows sweetly? 

 Bird wing and flower stem. 



Break them who would? 

 Bird wing and flower stem, 



Make them who could? 



This world is very beautiful and the 

 birds and flowers help to make it so. 

 When we think what the world would 

 be without the fluttering of wings and 

 the carols of birds, without the color 

 and perfume of the lilies and roses 

 and the myriads of wild flowers that 

 lift their pretty heads from banks of 

 dainty moss or nod to their reflection 

 in the clear waters of the brook, we 

 begin to feel what beauty they possess 

 and what a grace they give to our lives. 



Birds have been named often from 

 their appearance. The name grouse 

 means gray hen, and this family of 

 game birds as a whole is of this color. 



I must now tell you of a wonderful 

 thing that happened just a while ago. 

 You all know about the Queen's Dia- 

 mond Jubilee over in England? The 

 papers every day gave interesting ac- 

 counts of the Queen and her people, 

 how they loved her, how they ap- 

 plauded her whenever she showed her 

 good, kind face to them. 



I had said to my brother that I 

 wished I could see such a wonderful 

 jubilee, when he replied: "Can you 

 keep a secret? " " Of course you know 

 that I can!" "Listen, then," he whis- 

 pered softly, "if you wish to see some 

 things as strange as the Queen's Jubilee 

 be ready on your wheel at ii tonight. 

 Say not a word to any one." But 

 where are we going?" I asked. "That 

 I shall not tell you; if you care to come, 

 all right; if not, I shall go alone." Of 

 course I was ready. Our wheels 



seemed to rise into the air, and, flying 

 swiftly as the wind, we at last alighted 

 in a nest of hills, a lovely spot. The 

 moonlight was shining and strange 

 winged figures were flitting about. One 

 of them challenged us, but when the 

 password, "Jubilee," was given he let 

 us pass. The air was filled with the 

 whirring of wings and the voices of the 

 birds. They seemed to be very busy 

 getting ready for some great event. 

 Suddenly a drumming noise was heard 

 and all the birds were still. Looking 

 at the open space I saw a log and 

 standing proudly there was a fine ruffed 

 grouse. Soon bespoke: "Brothers of 

 the grouse family, long have I waited 

 for this day. It is the proudest 

 moment of my life. To the broad 

 prairies and lofty hills of America I 

 bid you welcome, O, my brothers! I 

 am glad so many of the ladies are 

 present, too," and then Mr. Grouse 

 spread his ruff so wide that we could 

 hardly see his head, and made several 

 low bows to the grouse hens who 

 fluttered their sober gray wings. "In 

 the name of all the grouse in America 

 I welcome you. And now, brother and 

 sister grouse, I have the honor of in- 

 troducing the Cock-o'-the-woods, who 

 will take the log." 



The drumming and whirring of wings 

 and cries of "Cock, cock!" that fol- 

 lowed this speech of the ruffed grouse 

 almost deafened us. 



At last Mr. Capercailzie, called by 

 his intimate friends Cock-o'-the-woods, 

 advanced to the log. Ah, but he was 

 a handsome bird! Very large, he 

 weight d at least sixteen pounds, with 

 brilliant plumage of black, brown and 

 white, and dark green feathers in his 

 chest. The scarlet patches of skin 

 over his eyes were very bright in the 

 moonlight. He looked slowly around, 

 bowing to the applause, and said: 



