A JUNE DAY CHAT 



say how many others, nest in the vines and trees 

 around the little hut. Humming-birds come daily 

 to sip sweets from the flowers at the door the 

 saucy plants send reconnoitring vines and blos- 

 soms into the very hut itself wherever aiding and 

 abetting knot-holes can be found and I fre- 

 quently hear the little birds' voices during these 

 familiar visits. A not unpleasing, frequently re- 

 peated, but very commonplace utterance is all 

 that has come to my notice. 



Sometimes, on crisp autumn or early winter 

 days, an oil-stove is lighted in the hut, for the 

 sheer coseyness of a cold-day experience in the 

 snug little dwelling. Children highly approve of 

 such experiments, and I have more than once 

 overheard my little visitors bewailing the fate 

 that compelled them to live in large, comfort- 

 able houses instead of dear, little one-roomed 

 huts. 



The cabin is a very desirable retreat when un- 

 usual quiet is required for evening study or read- 

 ing. Though standing well back, it is clearly vis- 

 ible from the street, and I have been told by 

 those who have passed it on cold, dark evenings, 

 when the snug little dwelling was occupied and 

 a bright light streaming out through its windows, 



