Greedy Gull would die of distension of 

 the crop, for he really looked almost de- 

 formed, it was so enlarged. 



"Sir Greedy" was so tame that when 

 the young man, instead of throwing it, 

 placed the last crust on the boat railing, 

 he flew close to get it but it fell into the 

 water just as he reached the spot and he 

 left it for the hungry rabble following 

 him to pick it up. 



The older passengers enjoyed the 

 sport quite as much as the children and 

 when it was ended they discussed the 

 peculiarities of the various kinds of 

 Gulls at home and abroad. The "Laugh- 

 ing Gull" with its peculiar cry which 

 sounds like a peal of laughter, and the 

 "Herring Gull" which has an economic 



value as a scavenger, came in for a share 

 of attention. An ornithologist spoke of 

 how nature provides long, narrow wings 

 when the bird's life requires it to move 

 in high winds and ocean storms, like the 

 Gull and other sea birds. Some one else 

 suggested that birds sail in the air as 

 boats do in the water, only birds are able 

 to "tack" in so many directions that they 

 have the advantage of a clumsy boat. 



Often Gulls form a white-winged fleet 

 to accompany a vessel far out to sea. 

 Most picturesque they seem as they win- 

 now the air, or circle to the clouds, or 

 dart headlong downward to surprise the 

 wary fish. It is always with a feeling 

 of regret that passengers bid farewell to 

 these ocean wanderers. 



Belle Paxson Drury. 



KITTY CLOVER 



When I was a little girl I had a pet 

 cat, a dainty gray with a white, angelic- 

 looking face and large blue-gray eyes. 

 This cat my aunt named for me, "Kitty 

 Clover." 



She was almost a perfect cat-being, 

 for besides her beauty she had exqui- 

 site manners and the most correct mor- 

 als, being honest, tidy, industrious, re- 

 spectable, motherly, loyal. I might also 

 say that she was religious, for she loved 

 and adored me, who was, I've no doubt, 

 a god in her eyes, possibly her only god. 



But her most striking trait, her crown 

 of female cat-hood, was her motherli- 

 ness. In her mother's nest, a strawy 

 place in the bottom of some barrel or 

 box, she was in her element. There, 

 fairly hugged and squeezed and ram- 

 paged over by her numerous offspring, 

 little wriggling, homely, blind babies, she 

 spent her time washing them all to the 

 perfection of neatness and sleepiness, 

 singing them to sleep with her rhythmic 

 and crooning purr, and occasionally tak- 

 ing a cat-nap herself. When I went to 

 visit her, she met my rapt look with one 

 from her half shut eyes, of the most 

 passionate love for her blind babies, and 

 of the utmost faith in me. 



Let me recount one little incident of 



her life. One spring day father brought 

 up from the fields, where he had been 

 ploughing, three tiny puff-balls of fur 

 with pink dots for nose and mouth, and 

 little dents where the eyes would some- 

 time open, in fact, three little homeless 

 rabbits; their mother had been killed 

 and they were most hungry, squeaking, 

 forlorn orphans. Now Kitty Clover 

 had a nest of very small babies, just 

 two, three others having disappeared on 

 the first day. 



"She is so good," said little I. "I am 

 going to see if she won't let the poor 

 little bunnies get some dinner with her 

 kitties." 



So I tucked them in very carefully 

 beside the kitty-babies. Sure enough, 

 Kitty Clover did not resent the liberty, 

 but, smelling of them cautiously at first, 

 she then hospitably tidied them all over 

 with her rough tongue. As soon as 

 they felt her life-giving licking and her 

 soft fur, they poked their little noses ra- 

 venously into the warm feeding-ground, 

 and in a trice were luxuriating over the 

 warm, sweet dinner. 



Let me add that this is a true story, 

 and that the generous cat mothered 

 these orphans until they were large 

 enough to jump out of the box. 



Amanda M. E. Booth. 



32 



