The chief breeding grounds of the White Pelican are from Minnesota northwards to the limit of its range. It nests also in isolated and greatly separated localities to the westward. It is said that several thousand permanently breed on the islands of the great Salt Lake. There are reasons for believing that it also breeds in Florida and westward along the Gulf of Mexico as far as Texas. The White Pelican builds its nest on the ground using small sticks and twigs. They usually select a clump of sage or some other plant that will afford the nest some protection. Frequently sand is heaped around the nest to the depth of about six inches. The nests are about one foot in diameter. The color of the two to four eggs is a chalky white and the surface is quite rough, due to the irregular thickness of the outer coating. The average size of the eggs is about three and one-half by two and one-third inches. The White Pelican as it calmly floats on the surface of the water, some distance from the shore, has been mistaken for the sail of a boat as the moist white feathers glisten in the sunshine. Longfellow has beautifully woven this fact into the “Song of Hiawatha.” “O’er the water floating, flying, Something in the hazy distance, Something in the mists of morning, Loomed and lifted from the water, Now seemed floating, now seemed flying, Coming nearer, nearer, nearer. Was it Shingebis the diver? Or the pelican, the Shada? Or the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah? Or the white-goose, Waw-be-wawa, With the water dripping, flashing From its glossy neck and feathers? It was neither goose nor diver, Neither pelican nor heron O’er the water floating, flying, Through the shining mist of morning, But a birch canoe with paddles, Rising, sinking on the water.” Seth Mindwell. THE SANDPIPER. The glitter of the sunlit river In his flashing, fearless eye, There on his unwearied pinions See the bird go sailing by! Slender, sword-like wings, and dainty, How they cut the thin air now! And without a trace of languor Soars he to the mountain’s brow. Back again—for whim has moved him— And where rippling water lies, Scanning all the shore line closely, Light as thistle-down he flies! On the white sand scarce a footprint Makes he, touching here and there; Singing his two notes so gladly, Ah, this bird is passing fair! Sweet content in voice and motion; Following plash of many a wave; Or o’er pine that faces ocean Mounts this rover, gay and brave! —George Bancroft Griffith. A BIT OF BIRD GOSSIP.