156 AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 



keep warm, but with their heads out so they are all ready to fly up 

 should an enemy appear. He belongs to the same family as chickens, 

 and his bill is very like theirs; he walks too, instead of hopping like 

 most of our birds, and his name would do very well for a boy instead 

 of a bird; the call that gave it to him is a loud clear whistle. He has a 

 pretty hard time in the fall when the hunters are out. Number 3, is a 

 sparrow, that as spring conies, goes up toward New England and Can- 

 ada to nest, but before he leaves his winter home he whistles such a 

 clear, sweet little song; two or three single notes and then one word re- 

 peated three times, and this word, with "bird" after it is one of his 

 names. But before singing time comes you may hear another of his 

 notes, a sharp "chink'.' given by one bird after another as they are 

 settling down for the night in some hedge or thick clump of bushes. 



Isabella McLemmon, Englewood, N. J. 

 (Numbers 4-5-6-7 will be given next month.) 



GLEANINGS. 



THE HOUSE WREN. 



All it asked was a little box wherein to nest, and it paid rent therefor 

 in musical notes. Those who have lived in the country must have a 

 lively recollection of that bright, sunny April morning when, for the 

 first time in months, they heard the cheery singing of this lively mins- 

 trel. It is always ready with a full performance. There is no tuning 

 up, no interminable twanging of strings, or dead-and-alive tooting up- 

 on horns, but the full measure of the song proposed, and it is a wel 

 come to spring that puts faith in the hearts of all hearers. 



C. C. Abbott. 



I guess the pussy-willows now 



Are creeping out on every bough 

 Along the brook, and robins look 



For early worms behind the plow. 



Van Dyke. 



TELLTALES. 



Pussy-willow had a secret that the snow-drops whispered her. 

 And she purred it to the south-wind while it stroked her velvet fur; 

 And the south-wind hummed it softly to the busy honey-bee. 

 And they buzzed it to the blossoms on the scarlet maple tree; 

 And these dropped it to the wood-brooks brimming full of melted snow. 

 And the brooks told Robin Redbreast, as they chattered to and fro; 

 Little Robin could not keep it, so he sang it loud and clear 

 To the sleepy fields and meadows: "Wake up! Cheer up! Spring is 

 here!" Mrs. Charles. 



