OUR FRIENDS, THE BIRDS. 35 
Miss Sweet waited for some one to reply, and 
Laura said: “I asked auntie that question once, and 
she said that no sharp distinction can be drawn be- 
tween them, and in general literature the two words 
are used indifferently, while no one species can be 
pointed out to which the word Dove alone seems to be 
absolutely proper.” , 
“Then, I should think, if we observe the habits of 
tame Pigeons, we could learn a good lesson about Doves 
in general,” remarked a girl. 
“That is true,” replied Miss Sweet. ‘“‘ Have you 
ever heard this couplet by Bishop Doane? Please re- 
peat it with me: 
‘« Rver, my son, be thou like the Dove, 
In friendship as faithful, as constant in love.” 
“Here is a poem by D. Conway that I admire 
very much,” and Miss Sweet recited 
TO THE TORILE DOVE, 
Deep in the wood, thy voice I list, and love, 
Thy soft complaining song, thy tender cooing; 
Oh, what a winning way thou hast of wooing! 
Gentlest of all thy race—sweet Turtle Dove. 
Thine is a note that doth not pass away 
Like the light music of a summer day; 
The merle may trill his richest song in vain— 
Scarce do we say, ‘‘ List !’’ for he pipes again. 
But thou! that low plaint oft repeating 
To the coy mate that needs so much entreating 
