red, that they find a welcome every where.
They are such an easy, sociable set of folks that they like a house
thus prepared for them just as well as if they had built it
themselves."

"I have been told that when they arrive at any place, before they
wash themselves, or brush off the dust of their journey, they will
go directly to one of these houses that has been prepared for them,
and examine every part of it; and, if they like it, they seem to
think they have, of course, a right to it, and they take possession
directly, and say, 'Thank you' to nobody."

"No one is affronted with them; but every one is ready and glad to
accommodate the strangers as well as he can, merely for the sake of
their good company. They come to us in May, and leave our part of
the country in August, to visit other lands.

"The great reason, I think, that all the world welcomes these
travellers is, that they are such a happy, merry set of beings they
make every one around them cheerful; their gayety is never-failing.
They rise with the first streak of light; there are no sluggards
among them. They are all musical, and sing as they go about their
work; but their music pleases me best when they join in their
morning hymn. When the morning star is growing pale, and rosy light
tinges the edges of the soft clouds in the east, this choir of
singers stop for a second, as if waiting, in silent reverence, for
the glad light to appear; then, just as the first ray gilds the hill
tops and the village spire, all pour forth a joyful song, swelling
their little throats, and making such a loud noise that every sleepy
head in the neighborhood awakes."

"Ah! now I have caught you, Mother," said Frank; "these famous
travellers are martins. I wonder, when you said they were not four
footed, I did not think of martins. I heard George say, the other
day, that his father had put up a martin box, and how they came and
looked at it first, before they took it, and that they always sang
before daylight, and what a noise they made.

"But, Mother, when you tell that story again, you must not say little
throats, or any one will know who your travellers are quick enough;
but do please tell us more about them."

"Yes, Frank, you have caught me; these travellers are martins; and,
if you wish, I will tell you more about them. Mr. Wilson, whom I
have been reading to-day, calls them birds of passage."

"What does that mean, Mother?"

"It means that they find it necessa