From your little 11-year-old friend— Archie. 
Orwell, Ft. 
IF MY LOVE. 
Ip my love smile: 
So twinkle stars, through nights by moons made 
gold; 
So landscapes beam ’neath summer suns unrolled. 
If my love laugh: 
So play In song glad waves along white sands: 
So harpB of leaves laugh ’neath .Eoltan hands. 
If my love speak: 
So ring the merry voices of the woods. 
That cheer alike sunshines and solitudes. 
If my love blush : 
80 morning flushes up the dimpled skies; 
So eve’s carnation with the twilight dies. 
If my love weep : 
So fall the crystal tears of night in dew. 
Skies weep that earth may bloom more fair and new. 
If my love love : 
So bliss leaps gladly from blest heart to heart; 
Nor life nor death shall find our souls apart. 
[Galaxy for June. 
- --- 
THE NEST IN THE MAPLE. 
BY MARGARET EARLE. 
Of all living things a bird seems the blithest 
and happiest. Whether circling In airy flight 
overhead, or cleavlug the air with swift, wing, 
or poising on the topmost twig of yonder tree, 
trilling Us clear song out on the fresh morning 
air, it seems the very embodiment of Joy ami 
freedom — freedom from care as well as re¬ 
straint. Perpetual youth seems to be Its birth¬ 
right. The frisking lamb and he playful kitten 
soon ceaso their frolics. Growing sober with 
their years, they seem to forget they ever had a 
youth. But age never stiffen* bird Joints—never 
changes the glao, joyous song into a melan¬ 
choly quaver—at least we never know it if it 
does. I mean the free-born bird. To the poor 
prisoner caged and dependent on hitman care 
comes much of the troubto and many of the 
infirmities that are Inevitably linked with hu¬ 
man companionship. 
Yet bird life— free bird life—has its trials, as 
I have found by watching the nest of robins in 
the beautiful maple that shades our door. Into 
the cosiest fork of this tree, Just before our 
chamber window, came a pair of robins one 
sunny day. Intent on finishing their spring 
work betimes, and getting to housekeeping 
before tho warm weather began, they never 
waited for Nature to build them a roof, but 
while the tree was yet bare and leafless they 
chose their place and went to work. Ah, buBy 
little workers I It was a cheery sight —their 
patience and perseverance, gathering their 
straws one by one, rejecting this and choosing 
that, laying them bo evenly in their bills, and 
Dying away so blithely. The round walls grew 
apace firmly fastened to the tree and woven so 
strongly ; and then with what skill they put in 
the soft lining of hair! They worked and sang, 
and sang and worked, until the last hair had 
been laid smoothly In,—and then the little 
worker whirled and whirled to give the finish¬ 
ing touch, and with evtdeDt satisfaction pro¬ 
nounced It done and well done. 
Each day brought to tho nest, a beautiful blue 
egg, until there were four. Now the mother’s 
heart was where her treasures were, and pa¬ 
tiently, day after day, she stayed amid storm 
and sunshine all the name. But Nature kindly 
gathered around her all the tender green 
leaves that flutter* d in the spring sunshine, 
sheltering her from the heat and rain, and the 
wind rocked the branches, swaying both robin 
and nest to and fro as gently as a mother rocks 
her cradled child. 
The days grew Into weeks, and there was a 
stir of life beneath her wings. Each littlesheli 
was broken, and four little, unfledged things, 
that seemed all mouths, made housekeeping 
much more of a labor than housebuilding had 
been. 
Now, there is nothing so homely, I think, as 
a little bird just out of its shell. Who would 
ever believe this naked, awkward, uncouth 
thing could change so soon into such an airy, 
graceful little warbler ? Did you ever wonder 
at the difference between fowls that walk and 
fowls that fly? The chicken comes Into life 
full-fledged, ready to commence business at 
once, while the birds feather slowly and keep 
their mothers busy from morning until night¬ 
fall filling those great mouths that are always 
crying, “Givel give!” But the parent birds 
are seeing their happiest time now, as they 
will find to their cost a few days hence. Take 
what comfort you may, Robin Redbreast, with 
your little nestlings folded safe under your 
wings. Chirp to them softly—sing to them 
cheerily—feed them bountifully. When once 
they have left the nest they will come back no 
more to Its sheltering care. That dear little 
home, so cunningly fashioned and so carefully 
watched, will soon have finished Its mission, 
and the little, scattered nestlings never again 
be folded under loving wing. 
And I dread the day as much as you, when, 
balancing on the edge of the neBt, with a little 
flutter ol tho wings aud a little ambitious de¬ 
sire to try them, the young adveuturer either 
tottles and falls outright, or with wings half 
spread makes a descent half way betweeu a 
flight and a fall and comes back no more ! 
Ah 1 you would have waited longer, little 
one. If you knew the enemies that are lying in 
wait for you. We do, and have watched the 
nest wishing we could put off the evil day. 
For we cannot help feeling that they are In 
some sense committed to our care, and we run 
down the stairs with lightning speed and catch 
it just as the dog reaches it and is about to 
crush It with the wolgbt of his paw. 
There 1 — a boy who has heard the outcry has 
been beforehand and caught another. We 
make him give back the little, trembling thing, 
and taking them Into the garden watch them 
all day; and between the boys, the dog and the 
cat, our eyes have no rest. The cat I—will she 
have no mercy ?—no sympathy with the flutter¬ 
ing, anxious, distracted mother, who now feels 
for the Ural time the trouble of motherhood? 
She has her own three kittens to guard, and 
with ears erect and eyes wide open starts at 
the slightest noise lest some harm come to her 
own darlings. Will she have the heart to touch 
thatfyoung bird while the mother Is hovering 
so anxiously about it? it is a pretty sight to 
watch tier as she teaches It. to fly—first running 
swiftly along, then stopping, she stretches up 
as straight and stiff as a grenadier, all the while 
giving that low call: the little, toddling thing 
scarcely reaches her side before she is off again, 
till finally, coaxing it Into a flight of a foot or 
more, she rewards it by dropping it squirming 
worm into its open mouth—repeating again 
and again both the lesson and reward. 
Well for robin red-breast that her four nest¬ 
lings do not leave their homo together. The 
worry and trouble would soon be the death of 
her. How anxiously both birds fly hither and 
thither, calling, coaxing, watching, and in an 
agony of terror if any new danger threatens. 
One night, just at sunset, we were startled by 
suoh a screaming of birds as I never heard be¬ 
fore. Gown the garden walk L ran swiftly; 
over the fence flow Hah ry, but not soon enough 
to save one of our own little robins from the 
Clutches of a neighbor's cat. Nol. only the 
parent birds themselves, but four or five other 
robins had rushed to the rescue, and I could 
have cried over that poor tuot her' frantic grief, 
as, regardless of all danger for herself, she 
circled around the cat and, alighting upon its 
head, tried, with beat!tig wi ngs and bill, to make 
It give her darling up. Ah 1 tho mother love la 
strong In bird aud beast as well as in human 
homes. 
Shame to the cowardly boy, for he is a true 
coward who will harm the innocent and weak . 
—shame, 1 say, to the cowardly hoy who would 
throw a stone or point a gun at these little In¬ 
nocent birds, or touch a nest to rob it either of 
eggs or fledgelings. A noble, manly boy would 
never stoop to do it. 
-*-*-*- 
MOTHER AND BABE. 
‘‘Out of all the burled ones, aunty, which do 
you see plainest?" 1 questioned. “ Little Sally,” 
was the quick reply. 11 Little Sally, who never 
had a name till we needed one to put on the 
gravestone over her. Little Sally, who was four 
mouths old when she died. Abby married a 
roan 1 could not abide, it was Henry’s wild¬ 
ness down to Boston gave him the consump¬ 
tion. Stephen was away from home always till 
he took sick, and Martin’s wife and me was 
never good frleodB, and that took away some of 
the nearness. But, little Sally never lived to 
give me a cold look or a bard word. When my 
plans were the brightest, she faded out from 
under *etn, and left the joy or my lire broken In 
pieces. Jest think of a velvet touch laying 
forty years on a woman's withered breast. Jest 
think of a little upturned pink face never fad¬ 
ing from out a woman's empty arms. That’s 
been my lot, and I’m satisfied to go where my 
baby Is a-waltingfor me.” 
-»» » 
A STRING OF PEARLS. 
Character is the diamond that scratches 
every other stone. 
All flowers will droop in absence of the sun 
that waked their sweets. 
The Imagination Is of so delioate a texture 
that even words wound It. 
A man’s own safety Is a god that sometimes 
makes very grim demands. 
The mind wears the colors of the soul, as the 
valet does those of hts master. 
Sin is the fruitful parent of distempers ; and 
ill lives occasion good physicians. 
Prosperity seems to be scarcely safe uuless 
it be mixed with a little adversity. 
There Is novice so simple but assumes some 
mark of virtue on Its outward parts. 
He who surpasses or subdues mankind, must 
look down on the hate of those below. 
Success has a great tendency to conceal and 
throw a veil over the evil deeds of men. 
Truth is the shortest and nearest way to our 
end, carrying us thither In a straight line. 
WKAK1NES8 can suore upon the flint, when 
restive Sloth fiudsthe downy pillow hard. 
Frank Sincerity, though no invited guest, 
is free to all, and brings his welcome with him. 
Cheerfulness makes the mind clearer, gives 
tone to thought, and adds grace and beauty to 
the countenance. 
The human soul is hospitable, and will enter¬ 
tain conflicting sentiments and contradictory 
opinions with much impartiality. 
Heading for tltg Holing. 
HEXPING PAPA AND MAMMA. 
Planting the corn and potatoes. 
Helping to scatter the seeds. 
Feeding the hens and Ihe chickens. 
Freeing the garden from weeds. 
Driving the cows to the pasture, 
Feeding the horse In the stall— 
We little children arc busy; 
Sure there’s work for us all. 
Helping papa. 
Spreading the hay In the sunshine. 
Raking it up when 'tis dry ; 
Plucking the apples and peaches, 
Down in the orchard hard by. 
Picking the grapes In the vineyard. 
Gathering the nuts In the Fall— 
We little children are busy; 
Yes, tboro Is work for us all, 
Helping papa. 
Sweeping, and washing the dishes. 
Urtnging the wood from the shed. 
Ironing, sowing, and knitting. 
Helping to make up the bed, 
Taking good -care of the baby, 
Watching her lest she should full— 
We little children arc busy; 
Oh. there Is work tor us all, 
Helping mamma, 
Work makes us cheerful and happy. 
Makes us both active and strong ; 
Play we enjoy all the better 
When we have labored so long; 
Gladly we help our kind parents. 
Quickly we come to their call— 
Children should love to be busy, 
There is so much work for us all. 
Helping papa and mamma. 
■---- 
LETTERS FROM HOYS AND GIRLS. 
From a Canada Boy. 
Dear Old Rural.- You wore kind enough 
to publish, in your issue of April IT, my first at¬ 
tempt at letter writing for the press. Since 
then a Rural Cousin from Pennsylvania has 
written (through your columns) to ask mo for* 
Information about our Canadian winters, their 
duration, etc. As to the length, 1 eaunot as 
yet speak, for as 1 write, this first day of May, 
the snow Is falling, and the only Spring we have 
is In the almanac ; but when tho winter la over 
aud past 1 will write to Lark and lot him 
know. A traveler who visited the northern 
counties of our Province (Ontario) this winter, 
says that ho stumbled over a piece of wire by 
the road-Mlde, and following up the obstacle, 
he found It attached to the top of a telegraph 
pole eighteen feet high; but travelers toll deep 
storioB as well us long ones, and this may not be 
a true Index of the depth of snow. I feel as 
though Lark might be a veritable OOuMn, for 
my grandfather came from Pennsylvania to 
Canada in the year 1H00, when all this beautiful 
country was a wilderness and roads had to be 
out for the covered wagon with Its team of four 
stout horses to travel; but now the broad fields 
and farm houses, with here and there a thriv¬ 
ing village, town or city, diow that our climate 
is not too severe for thrift and comfort. I like 
your column for Young Folks, and feel almost 
acquainted with its contributors. — Frank Y., 
Barf or d, Canada. 
From a New Jersey Cirl. 
Mil EDITOR:—I would like to be one to wel¬ 
come Young Naturalist aud give kirn a 
hearty hand-grasp for defending our sox. If 
YOUNG Bach would study human nature close¬ 
ly, I think lie would observe that woman is a 
delloateJy-*trung Instrument, capable of giving 
forth melody as varied as our most celebrated 
pianos. If he desires calm, gentle tones, let 
him touch those keys of the heart, and he will 
be rewarded by an overwhelming measure of 
tender, soothing melody. 11 It ishiswish to 
touch the harsh notes, bid him bilng bis hands 
down roughly upon them. If it is not gruff 
enough, pound away—put on the swell I—and 
he will get discord enough to suit liim3elf and 
drive the woman or giri craey. Please try, 
Young Bach, and see how much happiness 
you will make for the “ feminine gender ’’ and 
yourself by being kind and obliging to them. 
Young Naturalist touched a tender chord 
when he spoke of coasting. Will he tell us 
which one of the States he visited? I would 
like to tell you what grand times I used to have 
among the Green Mountains and iu the old 
“Bay State,” but I must not trespass on valu¬ 
able space. Cousin Johnntf,, please criticise. 
—Minnehaha._ 
From a Vermont Boy. 
Dear Rural:—I am one of the interested 
readers of your paper, and in reading the letter 
from F., desiring information as to breaking 
steers, I venture to Impart what little knowl¬ 
edge l have in that line through your columns, 
as I have had a little experience this winter. 
My method, when they trouble me about run¬ 
ning away, is to take each one separate, having 
a rope on his horns and another on his nigh 
fore foot. Put a surcingle on him with a ring 
in It, aud let the rope on Ids foot pass through 
the ring; then step back and protend not to 
watch him. If ho starts to run pull his foot up, 
and repeat until cured. I have a pair that 1 
broke myself so that I go around on the farm | 
and pick up the loose stone. I have even taken 
one of our popular lady teachers out to ride 
after them, and I assure you she looked comi¬ 
cal enough perched in a box on the stone boat. 
From an Orange County, N. Y., Clrl. 
Mr. Moore: — We buy the Rural almost 
every week, and like It very much. I live about 
three miles from Middletown, and my father is 
a farmer and keeps twenty-five cows. We soli 
rnillt and send it to Now York. Wo live about 
half way between the Midland and New York 
and Erie Railroads. I go to school and have to 
walk one mile and a tin I f every night aud morn¬ 
ing. I have three sisters and two brothers. We 
can sec the steeple of the Insane Asylum from 
where we live. I was at the Asylum when they 
had the first one, about half finished. They 
have tho Second one inclosed. There are a 
number of bug-meadows close bv where we 
live, and it. looks very nice when the people get 
them set on fire, to sec them burn over. 1 have 
read the letters iu the Rural from the boys 
and girls a great many times, as well as the 
other reading. 1 will not make my letter too 
long, as this Is tho first I have ever written to 
the Rural. Minnie C., If owe lie , N. Y. 
From a Western New York Boy. 
Dear Rural: — 1 am a little boy eight years 
old. My mamma takes tho Rural, and 1 love 
to read the boys' and girls’ letters, and thought 
I would like to send a letter, loo. We live on a 
farm on tho shore of Canaudalgttu Lake. The 
ice has nearly all gone out **r the lake, and wo 
can soon fish and ride for pleasure. We had 
splendid luck In fishing last summer. 1 wcut 
out one day with my grandpa, and 1 caught two 
large pike and he caught none. I guess my 
letter is long enough, only I want to know if 
this will not do for a pun. My little brother 
asked muimna about the ocean, and said, “It 
is not a mltc-y (mighty) ocean, is It, mamma? 
Perhaps l may write again. LOUIS L., Chinan- 
daipua, Ontario Co., N. Y„ April 8. 
From a Central New York Clrl. 
Dear Editor :—This is my first attempt to 
write to tho Rural. Papa takes tho Rural, 
and I am so pleased with the boys’ aud girls’ 
letters I Wanted to thank you for bolng so kind 
as to publish them; also, for those “ Doctrinal 
Points of Politeness ” by Mintwooh. I am 
twelve years old. 1 have a sheep, and have the 
wool to knit Into socks and sell. I have a little 
brother uight years old; he stands by yiy aido 
to hear the stories when I road. I guess this Is 
enough for this time. — Annie M., Earlvllle, 
Meal won Co., N. Y. 
From a Pennsylvania Quaker Boy. 
Dear Editor:— 1 am a boy thirteen years 
old. I see other young folks writing letters to 
you, so 1 thought 1 would iry it for the first 
time. I go to school, which is about a mile 
away. £ have seven calves to feed; they are 
very nice. 1 have some geese and little gos¬ 
lings. Something eat part of them. I found 
the puzzle. Hidden Groceries, in the last num¬ 
ber (May 15). It is as follows 1. Lurd. 2. But¬ 
ter. 3. Rice. 1. Cloves. 5. Itaisius. 6. Mace. 
7, Soda. 8. Spice. 9. Starch. If l sec this in 
priui, I will perhaps try again.— Willie B. H., 
West Grove, Chester Co., Pa. 
<$he $ trader. 
ILLUSTRATED REBUS.-No. 10. 
J3Y” Answer in two weeks, L. G. 
PROBLEM—No, 6. 
A merchant trading In a country village, on 
account of 111 health intends to spend a year in 
foreign countries, leaving his store in charge of 
an agent at a salary of $3C5. Thu goods in the 
store inventoried at $1,72X50. The merchant 
gave the agent $500 cash, as he might want 
more goods. The agent bought $2,012 worth of 
goods, aud received for goods sold $4,515.00. On 
the merchant's return at the end of the year, 
the goods in the store Inventoried at $723.00. 
Now what amount of cash must the agent pay 
over to his employer? 
F&r Answer in two weeks. c. c. 
.--- 
WORD-SQUARE ENIGMA.—No. 7. 
1. A woman’s name. 2. A man’s name. 3. A 
girl’s name. 4. A boy’s name. 
Answer In two weeks. x. y. z. 
--- 
PUZZLER ANSWERS—May 15. 
Illustrated Rebus No. 8. — Easing one’s 
conscience. 
Miscellaneous Enigma No. 9, —“Go and 
tell him his fault ’twixt thee and him alone.” 
Hidden Groceries No. 2.—L Lard: 2, But¬ 
ter; 3, Rice; 4, Cloves; 5, Raisins; 6, Mace; 7, 
Soda; 8, Spice; 9, Starch. 
