JUNE. 



June, and the skies brimming over 



With seas of the tenderest blue ; 

 June, and the bloom of the clover 



Heavy with honey and dew ; 

 June, and the reeds and the rushes, 



Slender and lithesome and long; 

 June, and the larks and the thrushes 



Singing their happiest song. 



June, and the rose in her beauty 



Making an eden again ; 

 June, and desire is duty 



Crowning the wishes of men ; 

 June, in her leaves and her laces 



Gladding the earth with her smile ; 

 June, and the gods and the graces 



Dwelling with mortals awhife. 



— Nixon Waterman 



A TRUE STORY, AS TOLD BY A LITTLE WOOD THRUSH. 



I look like? My 

 cinnamon brown 

 the tail, and my 

 dark spots. The 

 our family very 

 do not wonder, 

 mother, but of 



Do you know what 

 head and back are 

 changing to oHve at 

 breast is white, with 

 "House People" call 

 pretty birds, and I 

 when I look at my 

 course my tail is not like hers, long and 

 handsome, or my head such a nice 

 shape. Perhaps whenT grow up I will 

 looks like mother. 



We lived in a lovely grove of tall 

 oak trees, behind a yellow house where 

 the family were all interested in us. A 

 rustic summer house stood in the grove, 

 and near it a swing where the "House 

 People" often came. Our parents had 

 built our nest of dry leaves, grass, and 

 small roots, and there my little brother 

 and I lived happily. Other bird fam- 

 ilies were living in the trees around, 

 robins, yellow warblers, catbirds, orioles 

 and woodpeckers, and even the spar- 

 rows seemed verv friendlv to us all. 



Mother often said, when she came home 

 from the little pool of water, which the 

 "House People" kept for the birds to 

 drink and bathe in, that the sparrows 

 waited politely for their turn though 

 she had always heard they were quar- 

 relsome. One day mother, when bring- 

 ing her bill full of insects for our din- 

 ner, told us she had seen a little girl 

 with a great baby doll, standing with 

 her aunt by the swing. They both 

 stood very still and watched mother hop 

 around the ground catching the bugs, 

 and were so kind, she was not afraid 

 to go quite near them. 



When my brother and I grew large, 

 father said it was time for us to leave 

 the nest and learn to care for ourselves ; 

 so one beautiful morning we started, 

 mother staying near us. My brother 

 flew ofif, but I was not so strong, and 

 I found myself on the ground near a 

 bed of ferns in the grove, only able to 

 hop. While wondering what to do, a 



