204 LAND OF THE LINGERING SNOW. 



cup of the flower and looks into it, he sees the 

 stamens pressed against the inner curve of the 

 petals and away from the central column of the 

 pistil. If a straw be gently pressed upon the 

 base of the stamens the latter jump forward and 

 clasp it tightly enough to hold it. This pres- 

 sure covers the embraced surface with yellow 

 pollen, and in the case of an insect would make 

 it perfectly certain that in shaking himself free 

 he would not only rub some of the pollen upon 

 the pistils of the flower he was in, but that he 

 would bear away enough of it to cross-fertilize 

 the next blossom he entered. 



I can hear the songs of a robin, an oriole, and 

 a rose-breasted grosbeak. They have marked 

 differences, yet I find many people are unable to 

 distinguish them unaided. A thrush, a starling, 

 and a finch should not sing alike, but in Cam- 

 bridge the three birds build in the same trees, 

 and mingle in their daily lives so constantly that 

 it is possible they have learned to speak alike. 

 The 'robin's song is animated, but rough and 

 full of harsh passages. It reminds me of a 

 farmer's boy bellowing his favorite tune as he 

 drives his oxen home through a wood road. 

 The oriole often, makes music, but his voice is 

 apt to crack and flat until his silence seems 

 golden. The grosbeak sings the robin's theme 

 with all the robin's spirit, but without the 



