“I know,” said the seed, “you will spoil the appearance of my leaves and I shall look shabby among my companions, but knowing that you, too, are one of Mother Nature’s children, I cannot believe that she would have me withhold life from you. Therefore, I give you of my leaves as giving unto her, leaving the result with her.” The worm most heartily thanked the seed and began eating. He stayed a day or two, making several large holes through the under leaves, but at the end of that time he had become strong and vigorous, and again thanking her, he crawled away. Several days after the worm had departed and seeds numbers One and Two had grown to be quite large bunches, the woman with her knife came down the row. She seemed to be in a great hurry and was gathering the largest bunches as she came along. When she reached the two companions she stooped and laid her knife at the root of number Two, but noticing the holes in her leaves she quickly changed to seed number One and the knife went home. Poor seed number One fell over on her side and was gathered up and placed in the pan. The woman passed on and seed number Two was left standing, but shaking with the emotions of fear, thankfulness and regret. For after all, she loved seed number One and was truly sorry that she had been taken. All that afternoon seed number Two remained very quiet and her companions knew why. “How strange!” they murmured. “What we thought was her degradation and destruction has really been her salvation.” And they looked upon her with awe and whispered: “How strange! How strange!” M. Alice Spradlin. [Illustration: LECONTE’S SPARROW. (Ammodramus leconteii.) About Life-size. FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.] THE LECONTE’S SPARROW. (_Ammodramus leconteii._) The Leconte’s Sparrow has an interesting history. It was first discovered and named by Audubon in 1843. Later, his account seemed almost a myth, for no more individuals were taken, and even the specimen on which he based his published report of the new species was lost. It was not seen again until Dr. Coues rediscovered it in 1873, obtaining his specimens on the Turtle Mountain, near the border of Dakota. Of their habits, Dr. Coues says: “In their mode of flight the birds resemble wrens; a simile which suggested itself to me at the time was that of a bee returning home laden with pollen; they flew straight and steady enough, but rather feebly, as if heavily freighted for their very short wings.”