lk where a little ragged boy was leaning up against a tree.
He had a wistful look, as if he would like to be taking part.

"'Hello!' said Johnny, as he reined Jock in. 'Aren't you going to help
to decorate?'

"'Naw--ain't got any posies, I tell you.' The boy said this in a
sullen tone.

"'Here, take these. I brought you a big bunch so you could divide 'em
with some of your friends. There's enough for all of you boys to have
a few flowers to take to the cemetery.' Johnny extended the roses with
a smile as he spoke.

"The boy grabbed them eagerly. 'My! You're a jolly one, I'll say that
for you,' he said heartily by way of thanks, then he ran off with a
whoop.

"I saw from this action that Johnny was the same generous, kind-hearted
boy he used to be, and I felt proud to have had the honor of his
acquaintance."

CHAPTER VII

A WINTER IN THE SOUTH

I was wrong about the Phoebe bird;
Two songs it has, and both of them I've heard;
I did not know those strains of joy and sorrow
Came from one throat.

As the season advanced our May songs became less melodious until
finally our music was merely a metallic but pleasant, "chink, chink,"
and we knew we would soon be putting on our new fall attire, as toward
the close of the summer our family exchange their pretty
black-and-white suits, so much admired, for a becoming yellowish-brown
one. The different flocks were also now arranging for their regular
winter trip to the sunny Southland, where their winters were spent.

I was very glad to know that we bobolinks were to travel only in the
daytime, as that would afford us younger ones a better opportunity to
see the country. The return trip to the North is always made by night.
A great many people have wondered why we do this, and those who are
interested in our habits have tried to find out; but it is a secret the
birds have never yet divulged, and probably never will.

The blue jays were going to remain behind, for the winters which we
dreaded so much had no terrors for them. Sometimes when we were
preening our feathers under the radiant skies near the Southern gulf, I
thought of our old neighbors the jays, and fancied them in their bleak
Northern home flitting about in the tops of the leafless trees, swayed
by the icy winds from the upper lakes, and with perhaps but little to
eat. I would not have exchanged places with them for the world. But
my older comrades assured me the jays were not