Breaking off a part of the lump which 

 held a half dozen or more of the tiny 

 beetles, we carried it into the house and 

 allowing it to melt in our hands we were 

 surprised to find the lady-birds slowly be- 

 gin to come back to life and its pleasures. 

 They seemed at first as stupid and drowsy 

 as any other mortals when just aroused 

 from a heavy sleep, but in an hour's time 

 they were flying about the room and 

 finally all gathered on the window where 



the sunshine was streaming in with great- 

 est light and warmth. 



The children who had at first mourned 

 over the supposed death of these special 

 insect pets of children were never tired 

 of telling the story afterward of how 

 *'the lady-birds could freeze to death all 

 winter and then wake up and fly in the 

 springtime." 



Mary Catherine Judd. 



CHERRY AND L 



No one knows where the alder boughs lean, 



And the willow dips its head, 

 And the whitest pebbles sleep and dream 



In their sandy, wave-washed bed. 

 Where the mosses creep o'er fallen trees, 



As softly asleep they lie. 

 Lulled by the drowsy hum of bees — 



No one but Cherry and I. 



No one knows how the cardinal flower, 



Velvety, gorgeous and tall, 

 Was 'prisoned fast in a virgin bower 



Of golden thread for a thrall, 

 That the dodder spun one summer day. 



When only we two were nigh; 

 No one else saw — so no one can say — 



No one but Cherry and I. 



No one knows where the blue-berries hide, 



In the fern beds, thick and green, 

 Where the mossy floor is soft and wide. 



And the sunlight sifts between 

 Layers of leaves, in the roof o'erhead, 



With never a glimpse of sky; 

 Where the trillium's cup is the wild bee's bed — 



No one but Cherry and I. 



No one knows where the oriole's nest 



Swings by a silvery thread, 

 Backward and forth by the wild grape pressed, 



That drops from the boughs o'erhead. 

 Where we find the first wild strawberry, 



No one could tell, should they try: 

 For a chestnut heifer is Cherry, 



And a country milkmaid, I. 



— Elizabeth Walling. 



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