OUR FRIENDS, THE BIRDS. 
“Have you ever visited an old- 
fashioned barn? How cool and pleas- 
ant it seems as 
we enter its great 
wide doors on a 
summer day! Here 
are stalls for the 
horses, sheds for 
the cattle, great 
bins of yellowcorn, 
the wagons, the carriage and, over in that corner, 
the sleigh. Above is the wide haymow, where 
Biddy hides her nest, and away up among the 
rafters the Swallows have their mud-built homes. The 
man who built this barn cut holes in the gable ends— 
for ventilation, perhaps, but the Swallows use them for 
doors. How patiently they have worked to carry the 
clay and fasten it to the beams, then the grass and 
feathers to line it. 
‘What a busy throng they are, chattering, twitter- 
ing, catching insects, flying in and out on tireless wings, 
finding in the old barn their “city of refuge” from heat 
and storm. 
‘““T have often lain on my back on the hay in my 
grandfather’s barn and watched them build their nests 
of mud and straw, carrying in at last a few feathers to 
make a soft nest for their birdlings. I have lis- 
tened to their low chattering, wondering what they 
were saying to each other, and sometimes I would hear 
1N2 
Veni 
