e nest against the wall, was very glad to see her.

In the morning, two of the birds came to the house to see how little
Tweet was, and found her lying on the floor, dead. The little
baby-bird was looking out of its nest, wondering what it all meant.
How sorry those two birds were when they found that their good little
friend Tweet was really dead!

"Poor Tweet!" said one of them, "She was the gentlest and best of us
all. And that poor little dear in the nest there, what will become of
it?"

"Become of it!" replied the other bird, who was sitting by poor Tweet,
"Become of it! Why, it shall never want for anything. I shall take it
for my own, and I will be a kind mother to it, for the sake of poor
little Tweet."

Now, do you not think that there were good, kind birds in that big
cage? But what do you think of the boy?

[Illustration: "I WILL BE A KIND MOTHER TO IT, FOR THE SAKE OF POOR
LITTLE TWEET."]

[Illustration]

JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.

Hurrah for the new volume!--Volume V., I believe it is to be called.
That reminds me of the names of Japanese children, hundreds of years
ago. Instead of being known by the Japanese for Tom, Henry, or John,
it was No. 1, No. 2, No. 3, and so on, through a whole family of
little folks.

Once you had an article[1] on Japanese Games by a native of Japan,
Ichy Zo Hattori. Well, this name, as you will all admit, is a
fine-sounding appellative enough, but in English it means simply No. 1
Hattori.

[Footnote 1: See ST. NICHOLAS for January, 1874.]

So, welcome to the lovely new child, No. 5 St. Nicholas!--and that he
may grow to be a brave, bright volume, beautiful to look at and useful
to this and many a generation of little folks, is your Jack's earnest
wish.

Of one thing the little fellow may be sure,--Jack and the Deacon, and
the dear, blessed Little School-ma'am, will stand by him to the end.
And so will you, my chicks, Jack verily believes. He'll be a good
friend to you, bringing you any amount of fun, and telling you more
good things every month than you'll remember in a thousand years.

Now we'll take up our next subject.

AN ARTIFICIAL HORSE THAT CAN GO.

Well, well! The birds must be joking, for who ever heard of a bird
telling a deliberate lie? And yet it _may_ be true. There have been
artificial men,--manikins, automata, or whatever they are called,--so
why shouldn't there be artificial horses?

Come to think of it, it was not the birds who told