Jeremiah hastened to the end coop. 

 Between the slats he recognized the pro- 

 file of his beloved, hovering her fluffs. 

 He tried to get his head inside, but the 

 openings were too small and he could get 

 in only as far as his eyes. 



*'I have come to say farewell," he 

 breathed, hoarsely. "I have found one 

 younger and fairer than you." His soul 

 revolted when he said ''fairer," for Jere- 

 miah hates a lie, and even if Miss Domi- 

 nie be a diamond it cannot be denied she 

 is of the charcoal variety. "I may see 

 you sometimes," he continued, "for I do 

 not expect to leave the farm, and I wish 

 you to know that the bright particular 

 star of my life has blazed out and hence- 

 forth I am hers alone." 



Jeremiah gushed on, rapturing over 

 his new attraction until he half con- 

 vinced himself; gushed on, rapturing, 

 until Mrs. Cochin lifted her head and 

 struck him with her bill. 



"You make me very tired," she said. 

 "If you have any respect for your lady 

 love, keep your mouth shut about her. 

 Don't let everybody know you are a 

 goose. Of course, you would be just as 

 big a goose if you kept your mouth shut, 

 but everybody wouldn't know it. Even 

 a gander owes that much to himself : 

 not to let it get out how big a goose he 

 is." 



Saying this, she tucked her head and 

 sang a soft lullaby to her fluffs, and their 

 faint, sweet "peep, peep," lost in a low 

 croon of content, sounded to forlorn 

 Jeremiah like music behind the locked 

 gates of paradise. 



Sadly he clambered upon the back of 

 an old wagon seat, half way between the 

 end coop and the black pullet; and the 

 friendly dark came down; and old Jere- 

 miah lost the ache of self in the oblivion 

 of sleep. Emily Frances Smith. 



THE ORIOLE. 



A flash of gold and black against the sky, 

 A perch upon the orchard's topmost bough, 



A strain of such unmingled ecstasy. 



The lingering echoes thrill the silence now. 



A hanging nest so beautifully shaped. 



So softly lined, close woven, firm and strong, 



A bright-eyed mate to brood above the eggs, 

 And listen to that rhapsody of song. 



A deep serenity of blue above, 



A bubbling joy within beyond control. 

 Of hopes fulfilled, of Summertime and love — 



Once more the golden story, Oriole ! 



— Lulu Whedon IMitchell. 



