WELCOME THE COMING GUEST 



toward six o'clock in the evening there are vo- 

 ciferous calls for me if I am at all behindhand 

 with my preparations. On high days and holidays 

 the bread is moistened with milk instead of water, 

 and such an Epicurean gloating as there is over 

 the festival dish ! Even the seed-eating birds pat- 

 ronize it, though they usually show a very natural 

 preference for the diet of sunflower and other 

 seeds. Bits of apple, intended for the cottontails, 

 and nuts for the squirrels, complete the bill of 

 fare, but the Jolie-Queue and Rufus tribe appro- 

 priate portions of all the supplies, and carry away 

 far more than they can eat. These acquisitive lit- 

 tle creatures seem greatly to enjoy patting and fit- 

 ting pieces of moist bread into convenient branch 

 crotches; proceeding much after the manner of 

 moulders in clay. At nearly all angles of the 

 table d'hote trees these strange little bread-pud- 

 dings may be seen. There are also various other 

 unnatural and uncanny maple-tree decorations 

 suggestive of the work of an insane Santa Claus, 

 but at least on one occasion they served an ex- 

 cellent purpose. 



Summer before last toward the close of the 

 season, a sudden and violent anti-grackle crusade 

 was organized in our neighborhood. It was the 



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