There was a sudden lull in the conversation and great-grandfather Humming Bird asked grandfather Humming Bird to describe the place where his family had spent the summer just passed. "It was a lovely place near a lake in Southern Wisconsin," said he. "Many honeysuckle and dogwood bushes grew there, and wild rose bushes, and wild grape vines, and clematis, and large purple vetches. Grandmother and I built our nest in a grapevine angle, and often in the warm summer evenings the wind would rock our babies to sleep. There was a place not far away, which I know you would find a pleasant home for next summer. It is up on a hill, not far from the lake. There is a house there with one chimney from which the smoke never comes all summer long. In the big yard there are beautiful trees and fragrant flowering shrubs and beds filled with flowers. A lady lives there who is loved by all the birds, for she never frightens them, and every day she feeds them and talks to them. So they build nests in her trees and sing for her. "This summer, in a beautiful shady place, near a syringa thicket, she made a house out of a big box for a mother hen who had fifteen little downy chicks, and every day when she fed the chickens she left enough food so that the birds could have some, too. And all, even the little yellow canaries, used to help themselves. This did not please the old mother hen very well, and if she could have gotten out of her box-house, I think she would have chased the birds away. One day a bold blackbird walked into her house to get some grains of corn, when he thought she was not looking. But before he could get out again she pulled three feathers out of his tail and laid them down, as a warning, where all the other birds could see them. I heard the lady afterwards telling the mother hen that she must not be so selfish, and the next time she fed the chickens she put several handfuls of corn where the blackbirds could get it, without having their tail-feathers pulled out. I have seen the lady put pieces of string and bits of soft cotton cloth and old rope where the birds could get them, to help make their nests. And I saw her feeding a little orphan owl with angle worms. The little owl was very fond of her and sat on her fingers and twisted his neck and winked his great eyes. Whenever he heard her talking he gave a queer little screech, for he knew her voice. He was a great eater and he expected her to give him something to eat every time she went where he was. One day that lady was sitting on her porch listening to the birds singing. At one end of the porch was a large lilac bush in full bloom, and I was enjoying myself among the blossoms. Once in a while I would fly to a flower bed not far from the opposite end of the porch, where there was a big bunch of belladonna with its lovely blue and mauve blossoms. The lady seemed to like lilacs best, for she had fastened a large bunch in her belt, and sat with her hands folded in