286 AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 



bound not to, we wont say a word but go away and see what more we 

 can find. Hear the Robin singing his song of cheerily, cheerily, cheer- 

 ily, cheer up, cheerily. Who could be lonesome even if left alone with 

 just this one bird friend. Not I at least. See the timothy grass in 

 yonder field waving to and fro in the gentle breeze. Come run, there 

 is a little snake, O, it is running away from us, it won't hurt you. You 

 say you _ wouldn't like to be left with that small wriggling creature, 

 well, I quite agree with you there. Chip, chip, hear that Chipping 

 Sparrow overhead and see that swallow flying up and then down. He 

 seems to be always on the wing. I should really think he would be 

 tired, I'm just beginning to feel tired myself, aren't you? Well let us 

 sit under this birch tree and enjoy the shade it gives. Do you feel the 

 gentle breeze? How refreshing it is. See those two swallow-tailed 

 butterflies. Be still and they may come near. Yes they are right 

 at my feet. See how perfect each marking ot black is. What is the 

 use of these pretty flitting things? They have a use or our Heavenly 

 Father would not have put them here. Their use may be just to make 

 us think of Him. Do you hear Bob White telling us his name and the 

 crow above saying caw, caw, caw? Let us be up and off. Just listen 

 one minute and hear all the dififerent sounds that come from the birds, 

 the tree toad, and the rustling of the leaves for an accompaniment. See 

 that Chickadee in the pine tree yonder, and Oh, see that beautiful Blue- 

 bird. It is the most beautiful one I have seen this year? 



How kind Mother Nature is to show us all these things, and how 

 kind of our own Heavenly Father to put them on earth so that all who 

 would, could see them. 



Mary F. W. Anderson, (age 14,) Wollaston, Mass. 



GLEANINGS. 



'Tis always morning somewhere; and above 

 The awakening continents, from shore to shore, 

 Somewhere the birds are singing ever more. 



— Longfellow. 



KINGFISHER. 



She rears her young on yonder tree, 



She leaves her faithful mate to mind 'em, 

 Like us, for fish she sails to sea. 



And plunging, shows us where to find 'em. 



— Alex Gilson, 



