*'Bobbs' " wing did finely, yet towards 

 September he drooped visibly. Tho 

 young doctor picked up a feather on 

 the floor of the cage. 



"It's time for him to moult," he said. 

 He must lose all these scarlet feathers 

 and get a fall suit for his dangerous 

 journey, and he likes best to stay far 

 off in the woods when he does this, for 

 he is not so strong or gay as usual. 

 We must let him go." 



So ''Bobbs" was set free and for 

 some weeks Francis did not see him. 

 October came and the birds were on the 

 move again, now, going southward. At 

 sunset, on some days, Francis saw the 

 tall trees full of birds, often a mixed 

 flock, kingbirds, orioles, Tanagers and 

 others. At first they would wheel from 

 tree to tree in short flights, uttering 

 joyous and excited cries. Then, as if 

 at a signal, they would all rise together 

 and fly out of sight, high overhead. At 

 night, if the moonlight were dim or 

 the air damp and hazy, so that the 

 birds could not see their way clearly, 

 they would fly nearer to the earth, and 

 Francis could then hear their cries or 

 twitterings, anxious, wistful, question- 

 ing; for birds, when uncertain, call to 



one another continually, lest any should 

 straggle from the flock and be lost. 

 They know well that they are much 

 safer when they travel in a compact 

 band. 



One morning there was a heavy fog, 

 so heavy, indeed, and white, that it 

 looked like a vast blanket wrappping 

 the earth. Out of this suddenly famil- 

 iar cries, gutteral Chip churs! came to 

 the ears of Francis. He saw with rap- 

 ture a big flock of Tanagers, bewildered 

 by the fog, alighting in the trees. He 

 longed to know "Bobbs." But hov/ 

 could he recognize him? These were 

 scarlet Tanagers no more, except in 

 name. All were in various shades of 

 dull green above and yellow below, but 

 the yellow of the males was a shining 

 gold and their wings glossy black. One 

 of them flew on the balcony railing. 



Francis, with beating heart, brought 

 a handful of seed and. held it in sight. 

 The Tanager moved nearer — nearer — 

 and at last ate from his hand. It was 

 his own ''Bobbs" ! 



But presently they all rose together 

 and flew away, and Francis never saw 

 ''Bobbs" again. 



Ella F. Mosby. 



THE VEERY, 



Thrillingly sweet at the close of day. 



Out of the dusk and the gloom. 

 Softly mufl^ed and far away 



Under the dogwood's bloom, 

 Corneth the voice of a lonely bird 



Chanting the song of the trees ; 

 Solemnly, wierdly the air is stirred, 



Trembles the twilight breeze. 



Circle in circle the notes go 'round, 



Clear as the tone of a bell ; 

 Tinkling forth, like a liquid sound 



Up from the depths of a well. 

 Moist and cool is the peaceful song, 



Ringing the same sweet lay; 

 Not to a bird the lig:ht notes belong:, 



But to a wanderlne fav. 



-Charles Washburn Nichols. 



43 



