72 
by the wayside 
Last evening I was riding my bicycle 
along the road, when a ground sparrow 
flew up. I thought there must be a nest 
so I got off and looked and, sure enough, 
there was a nest with five eggs. 
Mina Kimball. 
The Whip-poor-will. 
When I was in Michigan last year, 
there was a whip-poor-will that sat in a 
tree across the road and sang till late at 
night. He used to sit on a bench near 
the house, but when the dog heard him 
he would chase him away, till at last he 
did not come back again. He had found 
a’ new place to sing at evening, and, this 
place was across the road. 
Some people near by told me that the 
whip-poor-will was black and white but 
a bov on the next farm said that he had 
almost caught one, and it,was gray. 
The bird sings whip-poor-will so plain 
that you would think it was some one 
shouting off in the distance. There is a 
pair of whip-poor-wills at almost every 
farm house. 
Whenever the dog heard the bird sing 
he would run down to the road and bark 
for about fifteen minutes at a time, so 
loud that you would get a headache in a 
verv short time. 
George Jensen. 
Chase School, Room 1. 
A bird came down the walk: 
He didn’t know I saw; 
He bit an angleworm in halves, 
And ate the fellow, raw. 
And then he drank a dew 
From a convenient grass, 
And then hopped sidewise to the waLl 
To let a beetle pass. 
—Emily Dickii non. 
Jack’s Summer With Vs. 
{Continued from page 66.) 
decided to behave as a gentlemanly cat 
should; but the saucy little bird some¬ 
times was seized by a desire to torment 
his natural enemy, for poising himself 
out of reach, and above where Tommy 
lay, taking his nap, he would with wings 
outspread, and ali in a quiver, scold and 
chatter at him in a most exasperating, 
daring way, never, fortunately for him¬ 
self, however, making the good cat do 
more than open one eye. 
Jack became a gorgeous creature—a 
Baltimore Oriole—or as the boys sav, 
“hang nest’ 1 and was a joy to the e} e in 
his daintv garb of black, with shaded 
orange trimmings. One could imagine 
he had flown into a luminous, golden 
sunset, and great splashes of the brilliant 
coloring had adhered to the black. 
During the summer Jack was a happy 
bird, and one of his pleasures was to 
perch on the baby’s carriage, and enjoy 
her rides with her, keeping up an inces¬ 
sant chirping all the while, the dear baby 
cooing softly in answer. As cold weather 
drew near, he began to act uneasy, and 
grew less friendly, so when one night he 
could not be found it was decided he 
had started on his southern journey with 
the other birds. 
He had won all hearts by his loving 
ways, and was greatly missed, especially 
by the small boy, who sobbed out. “I've 
no one now to tell my secrets why I 
guess I told Jack—just bushels—and he 
used to listen so hard, and I knew he 
would never tell on me.” 
The next year when the mellow whis¬ 
tle of a large, handsome, and unusually 
friendly Oriole was heard, all wondered 
if it was our Jack, telling us in his sweet 
way. how glad he w 7 as to be near u> 
again, though why he should keep ask¬ 
ing, “what are you going to do-o-o? the 
children could not understand. 
