One day there was great excitement in the shoe and, when I looked in, five featherless mites with huge mouths were to be seen. Mrs. Wren was now a veritable "old woman who lived in a shoe." But she did not treat her children as did the old woman of nursery fame, though she was kept very busy in supplying their wants, even with the assistance of Mr. Wren. These birds subsist on small insects and consume a considerable quantity. With much satisfaction I watched them slay a host of ants that were invading the kitchen; running up and down the wall with much agility, they picked the ants off. Real warm weather had set in by the time the nestlings were ready to try their wings, and I thought, of course, my friends would desert me for a cooler resort out of doors, in which to pass the heated term. But O, no, they were too loyal for that, so to make their house more commodious, another room was added by building a nest in the other shoe. And the family raised in the second shoe was not a whit less interesting than the first. THE CHICKADEE. SIDNEY DAYRE. "Were it not for me," Said a chickadee, "Not a single flower on earth would be; For under the ground they soundly sleep And never venture an upward peep, Till they hear from me, Chickadee-dee! "I tell Jack Frost when 'tis time to go And carry away the ice and snow; And then I hint to the jolly old sun, 'A little spring work, sir, should be done.' And he smiles around On the frozen ground, And I keep up my cheery, cheery sound, Till echo declares in glee, in glee, 'Tis he! 'tis he! The chickadee-dee!" "And then I waken the birds of spring-- 'Ho, ho! 'tis time to be on the wing.' They trill and twitter and soar aloft, And I send the winds to whisper soft, Down by the little flower-beds, Saying, 'Come show your pretty heads! The spring is coming, you see, you see!' For so sings he, The chickadee-dee!" The sun he smiled; and the early flowers Bloomed to brighten the blithesome hours, And song-birds gathered in bush and tree; But the wind he laughed right merrily, As the saucy mite of a snowbird he Chirped away, "Do you see, see, see? I did it all! Chickadee-dee!" REFLECTIONS. CHARLES C. MARBLE. Vice often epitomizes ancestry. The wisest are not so wise as silence. Experience is the grave of enthusiasm. Experience is the enemy of dogmatism. Our faith is often nothing more than our hope. Should we despise anything that God has made? In bestowing benefits we imperil friendship. Innocence and guilt are alike suffused with blushes. If vice did not exist wisdom could not predicate itself. Disappointment leaves a scar which hope cannot remove. Success is an excellent proof of the wisdom which achieved it. The vices of some men are more endurable than the virtues of others.