AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 205 



Then we have a small army, growing larger every year, who seeing 

 the birds in their haunts and learning their home ways and songs, gain 

 a real affection for the "little brothers of the air." I do not need to 

 ask to which class you belong. 



One of our little friends tells of the ground nest of a Chipping Spar- 

 row. Have you found any in similar situations? A Field Sparrow 

 slipped out of the grass as we climbed the hill one day, and revealed 

 an arched nest of woven grasses, almost as cunningly hid as an Oven 

 bird's dome. 



One of the school children in Moline, Illinois, has sent an admirable 

 account of "How we celebrated Bird Day" — giving evidence of the ex- 

 cellent work being done in our schools on nature study lines. May the 

 good times continue to spread. 



Cordially Your Friend, 



Meg Merrythought. 



OUR LAST FLORIDA LETTER. 



Palm Beach, Fla. 

 Dear Jo: 



I wish you could have joined our picnic party in the sunny south 

 yesterday. 



As we started out there were ever so many Boat-tailed Grackles strut- 

 ting about the golf links, their glossy purple backs glistening in the sun- 

 light, some of them looked so funny perched on top of the hydrants, 

 craning their heads to catch the drops of water which dripped from 

 the faucets, others stood with out stretched necks, and bills wide open 

 on the ground beneath, not to lose their share. 



There were many ground doves too — not more than six or seven 

 inches long — with pinky heads and brownish grey backs, trotting about 

 with quick, short steps, many killdeer with two black bars across their 

 white throats, and dozens of palm warblers. 



We took one of the charming jungle paths, hemmed in by tall ban- 

 yans, live oaks, olive trees, with glossy leathery leaves, palms, ferns, 

 and climbing vines. The rustling of leaves, the crackling branches and 

 the sound of stealthy footsteps in the undergrowth gave us delightful 

 little creepy chills of fear, for who knew when a bear or panther might 

 spring out upon us. We took tight hold of one another's hands, and 

 cautiously peeped through the branches, and there we saw — what do 

 you think? Three or four dear little Ovenbirds, walking about on the 

 ground and scratching for their dinners among the leaves, and during 

 the three mile walk we saw nothing more ferocious amid the darkening 

 trees than our old friends Brer Rabbit, Robin and Catbird, and scores 



