but that the whole flock unite their en- 

 ergies in its construction. 



The notes of the Bush-Tit well illus- 

 trate the difference between the call- 

 notes and danger signals of some of the 

 smaller birds. Mr. John J. Williams, in 

 an article on "Common and Special Call 

 Notes," published in a recent issue of 

 the "Condor," speaks of the Bush-Tit's 

 notes. He says: "Why these mites of 

 birds should use a warning signal when 

 near human beings, is beyond me, as 

 they are practically unmolested by them 

 at any time, yet such is the case. Here 

 they flit incessantly, in small companies, 

 from one bush to the next over the 

 bush-covered hillsides, passing rapidly 

 along, usually on a straight course, 

 completely absorbed in the search for 

 their minute insect food and uttering a 

 continuous chorus of fine lisping 'tsit it 

 it tsee ee ee.' Frequently I have heard 



them coming some distance off, and 

 have placed myself in the open, close to 

 their line of travel, in order to observe 

 their actions better. Nearer they come 

 until they are within arm's reach and 

 their call notes still sound as merrily as 

 before. Suddenly one of them recognizes 

 in me something strange and unusual. 

 Not a move have I made, and yet first 

 one and then another gives a warning 

 note, an imperative little "tswit-tswit- 

 tswit," and as if by magic, they pass 

 around me and some little distance 

 away. Not one has flown directly away 

 from me, but for the sake of safety they 

 have changed their course temporarily. 

 In a minute or so their warning notes 

 cease, they feel easier and their cheery 

 little call-notes sound forth again as 

 they resume their original direction 

 through the bushes." 



SWEET BALM O^ GILEAD. 



Swing, swing thy pendant blooms, 



Sweet balm o' Gilead ! 

 While the warm airs of the spring 

 Make the bells and blossoms ring. 

 Sweet balm o' Gilead! 



Breathe, breathe thy odorous breath. 



Sweet balm o' Gilead ! 

 While the south wind whispers soft, 

 "Cold and winter both are lost" — 

 Sweet balm o' Gilead ! 



Shake, shake thy glossy leaves. 



Sweet balm o' Gilead ! 

 I will be thy lover true — 

 Skies may frown or skies be blue — 

 Sweet balm o' Gilead ! 



-Abby Willis Howes. 



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