CHERRIES.
Under the tree the farmer said,
Smiling, and shaking his wise old head:
"Cherries are ripe! but then, you know,
There's the grass to cut and the corn to hoe;
We can gather the cherries any day.
But when the sun shines we must make our hay.
To-night, when the work has all been done,
We'll muster the boys, for fruit and fun."
Up in the tree a robin said,
Perking and cocking his saucy head:
"Cherries are ripe! and so to-day
We'll gather them while you make the hay;
For we are the boys with no corn to hoe,
No cows to milk, and no grass to mow."
At night the farmer said: "Here's a trick!
Those roguish robins have had their pick."
Peoli, Ohio.
I live in the country, and we have many kinds of birds, but I want you to tell me why they change so. A few years ago there were lots of peewees and wrens. Now there are none of them at all, and the birds that used to be so shy are building close by, the redbird in the bushes near the front door, the winter king in a hole in an old peach-tree by the back door. There is going to be a picnic just a few rods from our house. I am ten years old, and have no little brothers or sisters. I have two brothers. One is married; the other is older than I. He can draw nice pictures of our house and barn, and lots of other things. We have two canaries, and they go to setting as soon as they lay one egg. We have had lots of pets. One was a crow, which could do the most mischievous things, and was very funny. We have only a dog named Bran, some kittens, and a pet lamb. Bran will stand with his mouth open for Fred to milk in it, and sit before us on a horse to ride. I have a cousin Nelly coming to spend vacation with me. We shall have bathing-dresses, and will play in the brook. There is not enough water to swim in. I wish there was.
Robba M.
The new birds must have driven the wrens and peewees away to find other homes. Perhaps you may be able to coax them back again.
A few Sundays ago, while service was in progress in the Presbyterian church at Rome, New York, what should walk demurely up the aisle but a little gray kitten. She stood on the pulpit steps, and looked at the boys and girls, who were in quite a flutter for fear somebody would say "scat," or pick kitty up and carry her out-doors. But nobody troubled her, and presently the little thing jumped up to one of the chairs in front of the pulpit, laid her head on her paws, and fell asleep. There she staid until church was out.
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A Subscriber.—I can not recommend any manual on the subject to which you refer. A few lessons from a good teacher are indispensable.
A lady of Yonkers, New York, lately sent to the Flower Mission in New York City two thousand clove pinks tied in bunches of fifty each. On account of their sweet, spicy fragrance these were sent to the blind sufferers in hospitals.
Little lovers of birds will send their good wishes to the kind Mr. and Mrs. Robin of whom this pretty story is told. A gentleman in Milton, Massachusetts, owns a mocking-bird, whose cage hangs under the piazza. Near by is a nest containing young robins. The parent birds are busy all day bringing worms to their young family. Twice, says the observer, the robins have been seen to pause on their way to their brood, and drop worms through the bars of the cage to the little prisoner.
Elsie G.—Your cat is really a gifted creature, but if I were papa, I would not like him to be quite so familiar. Did you ever dress him up with a paper cap, and a ruff around his neck?
Gertie and Lottie B.—Such a century plant as yours is a treasure worth owning.
Bessie H. B.—I am glad that you find it a pleasant occupation to help mamma in her garden. You forgot to tell me what you are raising besides strawberries. Did they turn out well, and repay you for your labor?
Count Rumford.—The ball of the foot must be on the pedal of the bicycle.
Max L.—The story of "Mr. Stubbs's Brother" began in Harper's Young People, Vol. III., No. 127, published April 4, 1882.