even there the teacher will fail in arous- | 
ing a feeling of compassion in a natur- 
ally cruel child’s mind, unless her own 
sympathies are genuine, and not as- 
sumed for the time or place. .Here 
more than anywhere else, it seems to 
me, intelligence, if not love, should 
prompt the teacher to familiarize her- 
self with the treatment necessary not 
only to the well-being but to the happi- 
ness of the little captives held for the 
purpose of nature-study in her class. 
As spring opens, thousands of would- 
be naturalists, stimulated by nature- 
study in schools, will, no doubt, begin 
their universal search for birds’ eggs, 
not from any particular interest in sci- 
ence, but as they collect stamps or 
marbles, simply to see how many they 
can get. In this way millions of birds 
are destroyed with no thought beyond 
the transitory triumph and pleasure of 
getting them. This  egg-collecting 
should not be encouraged by the teach- 
ers. On the contrary every boy should 
be told that a ¢vwe naturalist does not 
slaughter animals, or rob birds’ nests 
promiscuously; that he is the first to 
remonstrate against wanton waste of 
life; that he does not take eggs of com- 
mon birds at all, and never empties a 
nest unless of a rare bird, and some- 
times not always then. These argu- 
ments will prevail among a few who 
have the real naturalist’s instinct, but to 
the many who either do not know, or 
do not care, about the cruelty they in- 
flict upon the parent birds in thus rob- 
bing them of their treasures, another 
appeal must be made. Picture the 
family life of the innocent little crea- 
tures—a lesson indeed to people of 
larger growth; how they guard their 
nests with almost human care and wis- 
dom, and how they cherish their young 
with as faithful and self-sacrificing love 
as parents of human families. Impress 
upon their young minds how many 
days of toil ‘the mother-bird, aided by 
her mate, spent in building the nest 
which they purpose to rifle, of her joy 
and pride when the first egg was depos- 
ited, and all the patiently borne days of 
brooding which followed. Surely a 
boy not wholly depraved would be 
moved by such a recital, and thus thou- 
sands of birds be saved, and through 
their influence, protected. In this way, 
too, might not the whole question of 
slaughtering birds for millinery pur- 
poses be solved, for what mother or sis- 
ter could turn a deaf ear to the re- 
proaches of a child, or to pleadings 
from young lips for more humane treat- 
ment of their feathered friends? 
That the small boy is not without 
wit, and quick to perceive the differ- 
ence between precept and practice, the 
following anecdote, I think, will aptly 
prove: 
She was smartly dressed, and when 
she met one of her scholars bearing off 
a nest in which were five pretty little 
speckled eggs, she did not hesitate to 
stop him. 
“Vow are a wicked, boy, she ex 
claimed indignantly. ‘How could you 
rob the birds of their nest? No doubt, 
at this very minute, the poor mother Is 
hovering about the tree grieving for 
the loss of the eggs which you carry.” 
“Oh, she don’t care,’ replied the 
urchin, edging off with a derisive smile, 
“she’s on your hat.” 
’ 
FEBRUARY. 
The old, old wonder of the lengthening days 
Is with us once again; the winter’s sun, 
Slow sinking to the west when day is done, 
Bach eve a little longer with us stays, 
And cheers the snowy landscape with his rays; 
Nor do we notice what he has begun 
Until a month or more of days have run, 
When we exclaim: 
‘‘ How long the light delays!”’ 
So let some kindly deed, however slight, 
Be daily done by us, that to the waste 
Of selfishness some light it may impart- 
Mayhap not noticed till we feel the night 
Is less within our souls, and broader-spaced 
Has grown the cheerful sunshine of the heart. 
—Samuel Francis Batchelder. 
