sight with her head and tail sticking out, 

 but she declared she found the nest very 

 comfortable. 



Mr. Stickleback, looking his fiercest, 

 kept guard outside and when she was 

 gone he took a peep at the eggs. 



They were sticky, like all fish eggs, 

 and fixed to the bottom of the nest, but 

 he seemed well pleased, and, covering 

 them carefully, set himself to watch 

 again. He invited three other ladies to 

 lay for him, and by that time he had eggs 

 enough. He was tired, too, for he had 

 fought every brightly colored Stickle- 

 back that had gone by. 



'Tt is scandalous," said some of the 

 dull colored ones in his hearing. 'T won- 

 der our children have any training at 

 all when their fathers fight so." 



But T^Ir. Stickleback said to himself: 

 "What do they know about it. They have 

 never been red or blue in their lives, and 

 when a fellow gets red and blue he has 

 to fight." 



And so he continued fighting anything 

 or anybody that came too near, no mat- 

 ter what its size. All the while he kept 

 careful watch over his nest and one day 



his little fatherly heart was made happy 

 by the hatching of the tiny eggs. 



But work was pressing after this. To 

 keep a hundred babies from being car- 

 ried out of the nest by the stream was no 

 small matter. Besides, as must happen 

 in such a large family, some were dis- 

 obedient and glad of an excuse to flit 

 away on their tiny fins, and their poor 

 tired father was kept so busy darting 

 after them and bringing them back in his 

 mouth, that his fins just ached. 



Fortunately, after about a week, they 

 were able to follow him to the feeding 

 grounds, where he scooped out a little 

 basin in the sand, and there they played, 

 safe from harm, while he watched near. 

 Indeed, he guarded them and fought for 

 them until they were entirely able to 

 take care of themselves. By that time he 

 had lost all his bright colors, and when 

 he went back to the pool where the other 

 Sticklebacks were, and the mothers told 

 him how he should have trained the chil- 

 dren, he answered not a word. 



He was no longer red and blue, and 

 he didn't care to fight. 



Louise Jamison. 



THE SPRING, 



One glowing morn I met the Spring ; 

 A tender, winsome, flower-eyed thing ; 

 The sunbeams dancing in her hair; 

 Her gown of dewy blossoms fair. 



She lead me to the bosky dell 

 Where drooping, blooms the asphodel ; 

 We dreamed beside the streamlet's brink, 

 Where woodland songsters stop to drink. 



She wove a wreath of blossoms white 

 And twined them in her tresses bright; 

 So full was she of April wiles, 

 Of pearly tears and m.erry smiles. 



A yearning song of love she sang, 

 While in my heart the echoes rang. 

 Ah ! winsome, bonnie, star-eyed thing ! 

 Enchanting nymph ! Beloved Spring ! 



— Jean i\I. Hutchinson. 



