844 
November, 18 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
AMERICAN RED-WINGED STARLINGS, (Agelaius Phoemceus .) 
(Engraved for the American Agriculturist.) 
We present above a beautiful engraving of a bird, very 
common to some parts of our country, which by many is 
greatly disliked on account of its extensive ravages upon 
crops The chief injury done by them is upon green corn 
which they attack when unripe, pecking out the soft ker¬ 
nels and leaving only the cob and skins. But there is 
scarcely a doubt that they do far more good than injury, 
for they devote almost the entire season to the destruc¬ 
tion of insects which prey upon vegetation. The male 
bird is of a beautiful glossy black, with scarlet shoulders, 
and is about 9 inches in length from the end of the bill to 
the end of the tail. The female is brownish black above, 
and mottled underneath ; and is about 7 inches in length. 
At first sight the male and female would appear to belong 
to different species, so different is their appearance. 
They are migratory, spending the Winter at the South. 
In August and September they collect in great flocks. 
They build their nests in marshy or swampy situations, 
and or this account are bv soma called “ swamp black¬ 
birds.” Few boys have failed to notice the noisy de¬ 
monstrations of the red shouldered male bird when any 
one approaches their breeding giounds. 
Tlie Editor and his Young 1 Readers. 
Good evening to you all, Boys and Girls !—Hark ! What’s 
that we hear? “Good Evening”—“Good Evening"— 
“Good Evening GOOD EVENING,” comes roll 
ing in from a thousand, ten thousand, yes, ten times ten 
thousand voices from the East and the West, from the 
North and the South, and if they would only let the At¬ 
lantic Cable carry words, we should doubtless hear the 
responsive “ Good Evening,” 1 from under the ocean, com¬ 
ing from some of the young members of our family in 
Great Britain, and on the Continent, for many of the Ger¬ 
man and Austrian and Russian boys and girls read these 
pages, and there are some 
of our readers in Asia, and 
even in Africa, too. 
There, there ! we had al¬ 
most forgotten to write,for in 
fancy we had wandered off 
over hill and dale, now to 
New-England; then away 
from State to State until we 
had got beyond the Missis¬ 
sippi, and taken a leap over 
the Rocky Mountains; then 
baek again through Texas, 
and across the Southern and 
Middle States, and then over 
the Atlantic; and thus we 
were going on around the 
World, until we stopped to 
listen to the curious “ good 
evening,” of some boys and 
girls in Alexandria, Egypt, 
which sounded so strangely 
that we forget our reverie, 
and here we are again sitting 
at our table, with heaps of 
letters from boys and girls 
before us. But what a host 
of you we have visited since 
we started on our journey a 
few minutes ago. How we 
would like to have you all 
in speaking distance—yes in 
shaking-h a n d s ’—distance. 
We should be tempted to 
forget that we were “grown 
up” and have a jolly time 
with you.” 
Ah, you did’nt hear our 
“ geod evening,” did you t 
No matter, when you re¬ 
ceive this, shout a “ good 
evening,” and we’ll fancy we 
hear your merry voices all 
through the month, as one 
afer another gets this sheet. 
Hurry it along, Uncle Sam ? 
WHAT O’CLOCK IS IT WITH 
YOU? 
It is 8 P. M., says our 
clock up there. Our own 
little ones are sound asleep, 
and it is all quiet now—so 
we have come in here to 
have a part of our monthly 
chat. But can you tell us 
what time it is where you 
live? Look at your time¬ 
pieces just at this minute, 
George and James, and Wil¬ 
liam, and Mary and Ellen, 
and all the rest of you. We 
hear an Iowa boy respond : 
“ Just sixteen minutes be 
fore seven. Its getting dark 
and I am beginning to see 
the Comet.” 
How is that ! not dark yet 
and the Comet not visible? 
Why the Comet has gone 
down here. Oh, we see how 
it is. This great ball of earth 
we live on is turning round 
Eastward more than a thousand miles an hour, and it has 
carried us away round, clear out of sight of the comet and 
the sun, while you have not got so far. Well in one hour 
and sixteen minutes you will get here, and then it will 
be 8 o’clock with you, and we shall have gone on where 
a part of the Atlantic ocean is now. So we keep whirl 
ing on, and by to-morrow night at this hour, we shall 
have gone clear round under the stars and under the sun, 
and be back here again. 
Hallo, there, John ! you little fellow living out in 
Washington County, Maine, that sent us a little letterthe 
other day. What time is it ? 
“ Twenty-four minutes past 8 o’clock, sir. I am get¬ 
ting ready to go to bed, I am very tired though, have been 
picking up potatoes all day, and my back aches.” 
Glad to hear you have been helping your father. “ Pick 
ing up potatoes ” is hard on the back—we’ve tried it 
many-a-day. But it is just as good exercise to develop 
the muscles of the back, as picking up stones and throw 
