t had received. The
boys were kind-hearted, they were boys full of life, the first-most in
a race, in climbing a hill they among the first who stood on its top.
Yet in all their sports they were never cruel. So with the bird, they
only thought of how to care for it. The tree was too tall to climb
with safety, and then they were forbidden to climb this tree because
John had once ventured to the first of its branches and by some
accident, such as will happen to boys, he lost his hold and tumbled to
the ground and he still remembered the days of pain it caused.

Said Fred, "Why can we not take the bird home and care for it?"

So, with this suggestion, they brought it to the house and placed it
in a small basket. The basket was one they used to carry their dinners
to school in, and, of course, this could not be used to keep it in all
the time. John said, "It will be best to make a cage for it. We can,
with our knives, soon whittle out sticks for bars and with the saw and
some boards make a cage." They labored on this for two days, and then,
with Uncle Ben's help, for he could drive nails better than they, the
cage was completed. Some cotton was shaped into a nest and the bird
was placed in it and the cage was its home.

They fed it on berries and crumbs and it grew rapidly. It soon learned
to perch on one of the boy's fingers and pick its food from his hand.
When it had eaten enough it would fly to his shoulder and seem quite
contented. In due time it became full grown, and though it seemed to
know and appreciate the attention given it by the boys, yet it seemed
to long for more freedom than the little cage afforded. The boys
noticed this, and with sad hearts concluded it would be cruel to keep
it confined and so gave it its freedom. For some time it lingered
around the house, in branches of the trees, but finally it flew away
to the woods.

HAYMAKING.

Many a long hard-working day
Life brings us! And many an hour of play;
But they never come now together,
Playing at work, and working in play,
As they came to us children among the hay,
In the breath of the warm June weather.

Oft, with our little rakes at play,
Making believe at making hay.
With grave and steadfast endeavor;
Caught by an arm, and out of sight
Hurled and hidden, and buried light
In laughter and hay forever.

Now pass the hours of work and play
With a step more slow, and the