The Rose-breasted Grosbeak invariably nested in a clump of dense wild Crab-apple trees, partly overgrown with grape vines. Another inhabitant of the grove not easily overlooked, is the bold Kingbird, the guardian of the barnyard, its nest saddled on a rather strong moss-covered limb of another Oak. I could mention a number of other birds that build their nests near the dwellings of man, but space will not permit me to do so. I will add, however, that if my readers would have about them these beautiful and useful birds, which are almost the best friends of mankind, don't allow English Sparrows to come near your home, and you will soon find yourself in the midst of the songsters. The incredible numbers of English Sparrows now found almost everywhere have driven our native birds away. --JOS. F. HONECKER, Oak Forest, Ind. GOLDENROD. Spring is the morning of the year, And Summer is the noontide bright; The Autumn is the evening clear That comes before the Winter's night. And in the evening, everywhere Along the roadside, up and down, I see the golden torches flare Like lighted street-lamps in the town. I think the Butterfly and Bee, From distant meadows coming back, Are quite contented when they see These lamps along the homeward track. But those who stay too late get lost; For when the darkness falls about, Down every lighted street the frost Will go and put the torches out! --_Frank Dempster Sherman._ [Illustration: From col. Chi. Acad. Sciences. GOLDEN ROD. 4/5 Life-size. Copyright by Nature Study Pub. Co., 1898, Chicago.] OCTOBER. Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath, When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf, And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, And the year smiles as it draws near its death. Wind of the sunny south! oh still delay, In the gay woods and in the golden air, Like to a good old age released from care, Journeying, in long serenity, away. In such a bright, late quiet, would that I Might wear out life like thee, mid bowers and brooks, And, dearest yet, the sunshine of kind looks, And music of kind voices ever nigh; And when my last sand twinkled in the glass, Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass. ----BEZANT. October days are stealing All swiftly on their way; The squirrels now are working, The leaves are out at play; The busy, busy children Are gathering nuts so brown, And birds are gaily planning A winter out of town. ----CLARA L. STRONG. FROM "CONSTANTINOPLE." EDMONDO DE AMICIS.