HOUSES TO LET. 



THE spring time Is coming once more ; 

 snow and ice will soon disappear, 

 and Nature burst the fetters which so long 

 have held her spell-bound ; the waters in 

 the ice-bound streamlet will soon be bub- 

 bling, bounding or gliding along ; winged 

 insects will once more flit over its surface, 

 and tiny fish disport themselves in its depths; 

 the trees will be bursting into bud and 

 blossom, the eye be refreshed by the soft 

 green tints that meet it everywhere in forest 

 or on prairie, the heart gladdened by the evi- 

 dences that the earth is renewing its youth, 

 with unfailing promise of fruitfulness; and 

 to crown all, the wild melody of the birds 

 bursting forth in field and orchard, will com- 

 pel us mechanically to lift up our eyes, and 

 stir the heart to sympathy and longing, and 

 to a desire to be up and doing, with hope 

 and confidence that summer will soon be 

 here, that the earth will renew her increase, 

 and the seed time be succeeded by harvest. 



But the birds ! how do they know it ? So 

 many of them were born only last summer. 

 They lingered on in the only land they 

 knew until food was scarce, until to have 

 lingered longer were death. With what 

 misgivings perhaps did they wing their 

 flight to unknown regions. But they found 

 the sunshine, and seed, and insects, and 

 reveled in plenty, while the Northern States 

 were held in winter's icy grasp. What can 

 prompt them to return to the birth-place 

 from which stern necessity drove them out ? 

 Some of them are arriving even before 

 winter has relaxed his icy grasp; they come 

 in hope, they stay in confidence, they know 

 that spring time will follow winter, they 

 hold the promise sure. 



And how glad the children are to welcome 

 them back! How their eyes brighten as 

 they see the birds flitting from tree to tree, 

 and recognize once more their half-forgot- 

 ten minstrelsy. Between the children and 



the birds what untold sympathies! There 

 was a primeval past in which there were no 

 birds, and who can imagine what a dreary 

 life man would have lived on earth if the 

 song birds had not heralded his advent 

 with their glad warblings, taught the race 

 to look up, filled their souls with melody, 

 and roused them to emulate the gay carol- 

 ings of the birds with their own vocal or- 

 gans? 



And the return of birds brings gladness 

 to grown-up children also, reminding them 

 of the time when they too shared the wild 

 birds' careless freedom, and thus bringing 

 them into closer sympathy with the chil- 

 dren. Many a toil-worn, and more or less 

 care-worn, farmer is ready to lend a hand 

 to build a bird's house — to please the chil- 

 dren, of course — who yet smiles to find 

 what pleasure he himself finds in the task. 

 And what inventive genius in the matter of 

 birds' houses is displayed by the mother 

 who rarely has a moment to spare from the 

 daily round of duties. What treasures in 

 the way of tomato cans she produces from 

 almost inaccessible shelves in old closets! 

 What forgotten boxes she brings to light! 

 What happy suggestions she makes of ways 

 and means to adapt them to the desired 

 ends! And how father's brow wrinkles as he 

 mentally strains to work out the problems 

 suggested before he takes the task in hand! 

 The work gets itself done somehow, although 

 all too slowly for the impatient young ones; 

 but one after another boxes and tomato 

 cans and flower pots are secured to the 

 walls of the house, or suspended from trees, 

 or elevated on poles, and advertise them- 

 selves as houses to let ; real birds' houses, 

 if the birds would only recognize them as 

 such, and take possession. But that if ! 

 How the children are balanced between hope 

 and fear pending its solutions! How they 

 watch the advent of every bird within the 



