song sparrow and the butterflies, what a goodly and hopeful token of the earth's renewed life is he, verifying the promises of his own chalices, the s

lit day, to proclaim his awakening to his summer comrades, a ga

tment, whether he utters his thin, sharp chip or full-mouthed cluck,

grounds, brown with strewn leaves or dun with dead grass. Sometimes he ventures to the top rail and clim

with a softly whistled tune and entice him to frol

his cellar with his ungrudged portion. Alack the day, when the sweets of the sprouting corn tempt him to turn rogue, for then he becomes a banned outlaw, and the sudden thunder of the gun announces his tragic fate. He keeps well the secret of constructing his cunning house, without a