42 
BY THE WAYSIDE. 
took up the sticky, greasy bird. “Where 
were you, Bridget,” she asked, “to let her 
get on the table?” 
“Shure, miss, answered Bridget, “I put 
down me bowl, with the eggs, butter and 
sugar in it that I was bating for an ille- 
gant cake, and went to the door a minute 
to spake to Ned, the grocer boy; and when 
I came back, there was that bird in the 
bowl, ating as fast as she could.” 
“Well, Bridget, I am very sorry; there is 
nothing for you to do but to make another 
cake, while I try to clean my naughty Pol¬ 
ly,” said Cora. 
So she carred off her bird, gave her a 
bath, put her in her cage (with the door 
securely fastened this time), and told her to 
be a good Polly. 
With a graceful bow, Polly replied: “All 
right; shut up.” Then she immediately 
commenced singing, crying, and screaming: 
“Cora!” until, to stop so much noise, Cora 
came back and took her uproarious pet with 
her to the room where she had been sitting. 
Polly always enjoyed the privilege of being 
with her friend, for she loved her dearly; 
and nothing pleased the loquacious bird bet¬ 
ter than to stand on the back of a chair 
near to Cora and chatter to her. On this 
particular day, Cora was painting and Pol¬ 
ly was having a splendid time, when some¬ 
thing called Cora out of the room. Before 
going, Cora put all her painting materials 
away where she supposed they would be safe 
from Polly’s vandalism. But Polly, not lik¬ 
ing to be left alone, decided to see what 
those funny things were that Cora had been 
using; and in some way, no one knows how, 
she managed to get at them. 
Hearing the peculiar chuckle that always 
oetrayed Polly when in mischief, Cora hur¬ 
ried back into the room, and such a looking 
Polly as she saw! A tube of vermilion paint 
was in her claw and she was busily tearing 
it to pieces. The result was a Polly with 
head, breast, and claws covered with fiery 
red paint, while even wings and tail showed 
some splashes of it. Cocking her wicked 
black and yellow eye at Cora, Polly called 
out “Pretty Poll!” 
What happened next, Polly did not like. 
In spite of all her scolding and struggling 
(fortunately, her love for Cora prevented 
her from biting), she was scrubbed in soap¬ 
suds—her mouth and throat being scrubbed 
with special thoroughness, the latter as far 
down as possible. 
When night came, Polly doubtless thought 
tnat she had spent a beautiful day, not¬ 
withstanding the scrubbing; but the next 
morning a blistered tongue, the effect of 
either paint or soap, may have caused her 
to change her mind. Helen P. Haskell. 
One day two boys were sitting under a 
tree. One boy was 10 years old and the 
other boy was 12. The 10-year-old boy saw 
a little bird’s nest and told the 12-year-old 
boy and they both climbed the tree and 
looked in the nest and there were three little 
eggs, and they took the nest down and sat 
down a while and afterwards they saw a 
bird flying to the tree, and when it got 
there it did not see its nest at all and flew 
away again, and when they saw what the 
bird did they put the nest back and they 
sat down again talking, when they saw the 
same bird flying back again very happy, and 
they went home. It was getting late at 
night now, and then they went to bed think¬ 
ing about the bird and the nest, so they 
thought they would go back the next day. 
So when the next day came they went to 
the tree and they both climbed the tree and 
they looked in the nest and there they found 
three little birds chirping as loud as they 
could, and the mother bird singing as hap¬ 
py as any mother bird would to see their 
nest again. 
When they went home that night they told 
their mother about it and they said that 
they never would rob a bird’s nest again. 
Do you think they ever robbed a bird’s nest 
again? No, indeed, you may say and you 
are right, because they grew up to be big 
men and they always taught their children 
not to touch a nest. This is all I can think 
of, so good-bye. From Helen Hall. 
Acton, Ill. 
