is slight and surely no one would be- 

 grudge this beautiful songster a few peas 

 even though he were utterly worthless 

 from an economic standpoint. 



The favorite haunts of these Grosbeaks 

 are open timber lands and groves, and 

 though they do not court the society of 

 man sufficiently to be classed as garden 

 birds, still they are not wholly averse to 

 human companionship. Two pairs of 

 these lovely birds graced our orchard 

 with their presence one summer, and one 

 pair of them chose their home in a tree 



quite near the house, in fact, this tree 

 stands in one of the most public situa- 

 tions about the place. 



It could not be expected that a bird 

 with the attractive plumage of the Rose- 

 breasted Grosbeak would escape the eye 

 of the millinery collector, and this partly 

 accounts for the sad decrease in number 

 of this beautiful and useful songster, 

 which should be protected in every man- 

 ner possible, because of its economic value 

 to the agriculturist. 



Addie L. Booker. 



FOR A DREAM. 



For a dream, O a dream in a checkermint bed, 



I would walk for a hundred miles! 

 There the white clouds are sailing in blue overhead ; 

 There's the tale that the thicket birds ever have said, 



'Mid nature's most bounteous smiles. 



And beside are the boughs of the balsam and pine 



O'erhanging the couch at their ease ; 

 They are drowsing the song of content that were mine, 

 Could I lie in their shadows on pillows of vine, 



In mesmeric touch with the breeze. 



Lying here would I drink of the nectar of spring 



From the simple chalice of May — 

 From the breezes that carry the odors that cling 

 In the cells of the wind when the checkermints fling 



Them afar on wings of the day. 



And 'tis here I would dream of a rest that is sweet, 



Delightful with balsamic balm; 

 Hypnotized by the brooklet that sings at my feet ; 

 Mesmerized by the insects that hum, ever fleet, — 



Dear nature's forget-me-not psalm. 



And to all who'd be free for a day of your care, 



There's the checkermint bed for you, 

 Close surrounded by songs of the grass and the air ; 

 Full in touch with the nature whose spirit you bear, 



In dreams that are restful and true. 



— Willis Edwin Hurd. 



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