Am I ever lonesome? How can I be
When acquaintances everywhere whistle to me?
Hungry? That's something I've never yet known,
For friendly hands toss me sweet bits or a bone.
Cold? Oh, never! for doors everywhere
Are opened to shelter my silky brown hair,
For _I_ am everybody's dog!

And what do I give for this treatment so kind?
I drive home the lost cattle and sheep that I find;
With the children and babies I tenderly play,
And faithfully keep them from going astray.
And many an ill-natured tramp I have sent
Away from the game on which he was bent.
I can carry a basket or pail just the same
As a boy, and better than some I could name.
I bark in the night when danger is near,
And if I'm in the house no sleeper need fear.
What! be your own dog? Do you think 'twould be fair
To stay here with you when they all need my care?
No; I'll come every day for a minute or two
But now I must go for I've so much to do;
For _I_ am everybody's dog!

A BIRD'S NEST.

What a wonderful thing a bird's nest is! Even the simplest nests are
very wonderful. Some boys and girls collect birds' nests, and that is
very well, if you wait till the eggs are hatched, and the birds have
flown.

The ground sparrow builds a lovely little nest; and what a curious
nest is that of the barn swallow.

[Illustration: A WEAVER BIRD AND HER NEST.]

How many of you have seen the nest of the Baltimore oriole? She hangs
it upon the end of an elm branch, where it swings and dances in the
wind.

I have for you this time, the nest of an African bird. This little
bird belongs to the class called weavers. If you look at the nest,
you will understand why this bird is called a weaver bird.

See how skilfully the nest is woven out of twigs, and grasses, and
fibrous roots. There are many kinds of weaver birds, and each kind
builds a different nest. Sometime I shall show you another weaver
bird's nest.

A RAINY DAY.

It was the day set for the picnic by the lake. Two little white gowns,
and the boys' best coats, and the ribbons and the neck-ties, had been
joyfully laid out the night before.

But next morning it was not picnic weather. The sky was low and heavy.
By nine o'clock there were thick, dense, black clouds.

"I think we might go," said Flossie, "even if it does rain. We go to
school, lots o' days, when it rains."

Just th