Well, my hearers, how do I find you this time? Getting ready for school, do you say? Ah, of course! Your Jack knows all about it. The season will soon begin at the little red school-house, and it will be a joy to see the bright procession that will go marching by my meadow every morning, the girls chatting and humming in the cheeriest way, and the boys all whistling gayly—whether just for the fun of it or to keep up their courage, I'll not attempt to say. And the dear Little School-ma'am—bless her!—she'll be in a perfect glow of delight!

It seems to me that the very walls of the school-houses ought to throb with pride over the wise young heads and the clear, happy voices that will soon make them echo with sounds of busy work and play. And so success to you all, my dears, throughout the whole term!

POOR LARK!

It's no longer "Up with the Lark," I hear, for that oft-praised bird gets up, it seems, altogether too late. An enthusiastic naturalist has amused himself by investigating the question at what hour in summer the commonest small birds wake up and sing. He says:—The greenfinch is the earliest riser, as it pipes as early as half-past one in the morning. At about half-past two the blackcap begins, and the quail apparently wakes up half an hour later. It is nearly four o'clock, and the sun is well above the horizon before the real songster appears in the person of the blackbird. He is heard half an hour before the thrush, and the chirp of the robin begins about the same length of time before that of the wren. Finally the house sparrow and the tom-tit occupy the last place on the list. This investigation has altogether ruined the lark's reputation for early rising. That celebrated bird is quite a sluggard, as it does not rise till long after chaffinches, linnets, and a number of hedgerow birds have been up and about for some time.

But hold! There's such a thing as overdoing a good habit. Some of these birds seem to have lost their reckoning. There's the greenfinch, for instance—the idea of getting up at the ridiculous hour of half-past one in the morning! If he keeps on, he'll soon have to begin each day on the day before! No, no! Such early risers as he are not to be imitated. So we may have to go back to the lark after all. Or there's the tom-tit. He's a contented, sensible little fellow, and gets up at just the right time, I should say. Yes, let it be "Up with the tom-tit!" What say you, my dears?

THOSE MOCKING-BIRDS AGAIN.

Travis County, Texas.

Dear Jack: I have been long acquainted with you and St. Nicholas. I live about two miles from Austin, the capital city of Texas. Birds of all kinds found in Texas may be seen about the place at proper seasons. Mocking-birds build their nests in the trees within a few yards, or steps, of the house. Last July, two young mocking-birds were taken from a nest of five. The two young mocking-birds taken from the nest were placed carefully in a large-sized cage, and the cage was suspended from a hook at the side of the front hall-door. The young birds were constantly and regularly fed for two weeks, night and morning, by both parent-birds, who hovered about the young ones during the day singing and frisking, and upon numerous occasions fighting off objectionable intruders and making great fluttering and noisy remonstrance when cats, dogs, or chickens appeared beneath the cage.

At the end of two weeks, the young mocking-birds then being about able to fly, the cage was taken inside the hall-way, and there hung, covered with a mosquito-bar, to protect the little prisoners from stinging insects.

In the hall-way, the old birds could not reach the young to feed them, but they would fly in and through the house; this they did for several days, and then, apparently, they abandoned our locality and their young altogether. As we thought the old birds would not return, we again placed the cage outside the house, in its first position, but on one occasion we failed to entirely cover the cage with the mosquito-bar; and that very evening, at the usual feeding-time, about dusk, both old birds were seen, for the first time since their departure. Each bird had food or poison in its beak, and each was seen feeding it to the young birds; and then they flew away and did not return. Not suspecting any danger to the young birds, we allowed the cage to remain in the same place all night.

Next morning early, we found one young bird dead in the cage, and the other barely alive, reeling and dazed as if under the influence of a poisonous weed or narcotic. Within a few hours, it too was dead. I am sorry that I lost two very beautiful birds; and I think the parent-birds poisoned the young captives, as the old birds were not seen by us again. Shall not the verdict be "guilty" instead of "not guilty"? Decide the question, Dear Jack.

Yours truly, Louise A——.