n to springs far beneath the parched ground. Sometimes these
springs are so far down that the trees are planted in deep holes,
something like wells, so that the roots may reach water. Hardly anything
except this tree can grow in that desert.

The fruit of the tree is delicious food; the long trunk makes poles for
tents; the leaf-stalks make many kinds of basket and wicker work,
walking-sticks and fans; the leaves themselves are made into bags and
mats; and the fibers at the base of the leaf-stalks are twisted into
cordage for tents and harness. The sap of the tree, drawn from a deep
cut in the trunk near the top, after standing a few days, becomes a
sweet and pleasant liquor. Cakes of the fruit pounded and kneaded
together "so solid as to be cut with a hatchet," are carried by
travelers going across the terrible desert.

[Illustration]

Besides all this, trees of this kind, planted in groups, cast a shade
which keeps the ground moist, so that other fruit-trees can live beneath
them.

When the tree is about one hundred years old, it ceases to bear fruit,
and is cut down for timber; but in its long life it has made its owner
rich and a great many people comfortable.

The paragram which told me all this said, further, that this tree is the
date-palm, and is called "The Joy of the Desert." Well may it be so
called, I should think; though once I heard some of the children of the
red school-house say they hated "dates." Perhaps they meant "dates" of
some other kind.

BABIES IN BOOTS.

Where do you suppose Tartar mothers carry their little children?

Not on their shoulders, nor on their hips, nor in their arms, nor at
their backs, nor on their heads.

Well, I'm told they carry them in their boots! These are made of cloth,
and each is large enough to hold a child five years old!

ROOK COURTS AND BLACKBIRD POWWOWS.

DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: In England, where I come from, I have seen
meetings of vast numbers of birds, though never as many of such
different kinds as those named by Z.R.B. in the letter which you
gave us in July. Sometimes, a great number of rooks gather in a
ring, and in the center of it is one lonely, dejected-looking rook,
who holds his head down in silence. The other rooks seem to hold a
consultation, chattering and cawing back and forth, sometimes one
alone and sometimes all together, until they seem to decide what to
do.

Then three or four old, sol