Part 2

One day last summer I was picking flowers in the woods, when, happening to look up, what should I see perched on a twig just in front of me but a cunning little bird!

At first I kept very quiet, lest I should frighten him away; but, as he showed no sign of moving, I ventured nearer and nearer, until I even covered him with my hand.

"Why, dear me! he's nothing but a baby-bird, and can't fly," I said to myself; and then I sat down on a mossy mound near by, and waited; for I knew the mother-bird was not far off, and I wanted to see what was going on.

It was not long before I heard a gentle whirr in the leaves overhead, and, looking up, saw two birds circling around the twig, but at some distance above it. Then one of them, the mother, of course, drew nearer and nearer in smaller and smaller circles, at the same time calling to her baby in encouraging little chirps.

Birdie on his perch seemed very much excited, turning his head from one side to the other in the cunningest way. But when his mother came close to him, only to dart off and call on him to follow, he looked so disappointed that I really felt as if I must comfort him.

The mother came back very soon and resumed her lesson in flying, and very hard work she found it too, for the little fellow was timid and refused to follow her, in spite of all her coaxing and scolding. After working a long while, she flew off, leaving her baby trembling on his perch. I pitied the poor little fellow, he seemed so forlorn and helpless.

The little bird, left to himself, got tired at last of staying where he was, and made one or two efforts to fly. He flapped his wings, rounded up his back until he looked like a ball of down, and leaned forward, as much as to say, "I'll do it now." But when he saw the awful distance between himself and the ground, his courage failed him, and he clung to his perch more tightly than ever.

After a while the mother-bird came back, bringing a large bug which she used as a bribe for her timid birdling, holding it under his very bill, and then darting off in the hope that he would follow. The youngster chirped for the bug, but he would not fly for it; and, after many efforts, the old bird, unable to resist his pleading, perched on a twig just beneath him, and held up the bug, which you may be sure he was not slow to seize and eat.

The little fellow now seemed to make up his mind to fly, even if he died in the attempt. He flapped his wings, rounded his back, and leaned forward as before, while the mother-bird flew about, fluttering and chirping to such an extent that the father came down from the top of a high tree to see how they were getting along.

The little bird was just about to fly, and I was just ready to clap my hands in applause, when, lo! there he was clinging to his perch again, trembling with fear, and chirping, "I can't do it. I dare not. Oh, dear!"

The two old birds flew away much disappointed; but the mother soon returned with another bug, and the lesson was repeated. Indeed it was repeated so many times, that I began to lose patience with the little coward, and to be full of pity for the poor tired mother.

His birdship had just eaten a bug, and the parent-birds were chirping and flying around, when, with the hope of helping them in their labors, I stepped forward, and tapped him on the bill with a flower-stem. The blow was so sudden and unexpected, that, before he had time to think, he lifted his wings and flew to a neighboring twig, where he clung, frightened and delighted at what he had done.

I left him then, with his father and mother making just such a time over him as your fathers and mothers made over you when you took your first steps.

MABEL ELWELL.

"LULLABY!"

NOW the shadows gather fast, "by-low" time has come at last; Little birds have gone to rest, safe within their downy nest; Little lambkins seek the fold, warmly housed from wind and cold: Baby darling, you and I now must sing our lullaby!

I will sing a sweet good-night to my baby's blue eyes bright, To the little cheeks so fair, to the sunny, golden hair, To the rosy lips so sweet, to the dimpled hands and feet; Gently rocking to and fro, singing softly, singing low.

Into "Dreamland," baby wee, you will slip away from me; Out from shadow into light, to the world of visions bright; While the mother-love so true, keeping tender watch o'er you, With the lullaby shall seem still to soothe and bless your dream.

Lullaby, oh, lullaby! stars are lighting in the sky; All the sunshine of the day like yourself is tired of play: Tell me, are the sunbeams _there_ in that dreamland bright and fair? Bring them back, my baby, then, when you wake to earth again.

Sweetly on her mother's breast sinks the little one to rest. By-low time is sweeter far than all the hours of play-time are: So thinks baby, so think I, as we sing our lullaby, Rocking gently to and fro, chanting softly, chanting low.

MARY D. BRINE.

HOW LITTLE EDITH WENT TO SLEEP.

"I'M sleepy; and I want my mamma to rock me to sleep; and I don't want grandma, or auntie, or papa, or any one else, to rock me, but just my own mamma." And the little queen planted her feet firmly, and looked at us with so much defiance, that we felt it was of no use for us to coax, rock, or sing.

Little Edith was tired, and sadly in need of her nap; but her mamma was sick in bed, and could not be disturbed. What was to be done?

Papa held up a bright silver-piece as a reward of merit to the little girl, if she would be good, and go to sleep. Grandma ventured a little coaxing. But it was all of no avail: the sleepy eyes opened wide, as if they meant to keep open in spite of us all.

But when auntie remarked that she was going to her room to sharpen her pencil, and draw some pictures of a cat, or a dog, or a rabbit, Edith's eyes brightened; and she said, "Let me go too?"

So Edith sat on her auntie's lap, and asked her to draw a rabbit,--a "yabbit," Edith called it,--and to begin at his ears.

"Yes, little pet. Here are his ears, and here is his body, and here is his tail, and here are his feet, and here are some spectacles for him to see through," said auntie, drawing each article as she named it. "And here are some pretty red beads around his neck, and some rings in his ears; and now we will tie a nice blue ribbon on his tail." Here Edith suggested shoes for his feet.

"Yes," said auntie. "And now he wants an apple to eat: so here is an _apple_ for him (1). Now he wants some _grass_ (2); now some _nuts_ (3). Now he is crying for a piece of _pie_ (4); no, he doesn't want that kind, he wants _gooseberry-pie_: well, rabbit, here it is (5). Here is some _bread_ for him (6), and we will spread it with nice butter; and he wants a _potato_ too (7), and a nice sweet _orange_ (8), and a _brush_ to smooth his fur (9)."

Little Edith's eyes were gradually closing; but, becoming aware of the fact, she started up as if she thought of going away.

"Stop, darling," said auntie. "We must give the rabbit a _wash-bowl_ to wash in (10), and some nice cool water in it; and now he must have a _comb_ (11), and a _cup and saucer_ to drink his tea from (12), and a _doll_ to play with (13). Now he says he wants a _house_ to live in (14), with a tree growing by it, and a nice walk to the front-door, and a fence all around it; and there he is crying for a bed to sleep on. Oh, what a rabbit you are! you want so many things! Well, here is a nice _bed_ for you (15). Now I hope you will go to sleep, and not ask for another thing; for little Edith's eyes are shut."

And, sure enough, Edith was fast asleep.

C. L. K.

BLOW, BLOW, EAST WIND!

1. Blow, blow, east wind! What does the east wind do? Shine, shine, sunlight! And what does the sunshine do? The sunshine clear Goes here and there, And searches ev'ry nook; And while it is going, The wind it is blowing Much farther than you can look.

2. Blow, blow, east wind! Woodlands and valleys through! Shine, shine, sunlight! With beams of a golden hue The fields grow green By winds swept clean, But end your blowing, do! And south breezes dear Very soon will be here With the skies of a deep warm blue.

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Transcriber's Note:

The title page and table of contents were created for this issue following the pattern from the 1877 issues.

Page 48, comma removed from text. The original read (said, he only)

Page 63, end quotation mark added (his fur (9).")