THE NEST IN THE MAIL-BOX. 



39 



At her new home her mood changed, but, alas! not for the 

 better. She now complained all the time; and the burden of her 

 cry was ever the same: "Polly wants to go to Detroit; poor 

 Polly wants to go to Detroit ! " 



So sad was the bird's moan that a lady who lived across the 

 street had to close the front doors and windows of her house and 

 retire to the rear, that she might not hear it. 



. For fourteen days tlie poor creature sent forth her pitiful wail. 

 She refused food, and died with the half-finished petition upon her 

 tongue : " Poor Polly wants to go " — 



THE XEST IX THE MAIL-BOX. 



We had to fasten a box for our mail on the gate-post, because 

 the postman is afraid of our dog, and will not come into the vard. 



Last summer two little blue- 



birds made a pretty nest right 

 in that box. 



The mamma bird laid five 

 tiny eggs, and sat on them, 

 letting the postman drop the 

 letters on her. Every morn- 

 ing and evening the news- 

 boy put in the paper. 

 Papa bird brought her worms, 

 and mamma, my sister, and I 

 used to watch him. He would 

 ■ go into the box while Ave looked 

 ut wh(>n we Avalked away he 

 op down quick as a flash. 

 By and by there were five little birds 

 in the nest. We thought the letters 

 and papers would surely kill them. But 

 they did not; the birds grew finely. 

 Their mouths were always wide open. 



