He is handsome and stylish, most fine to behold, In his glossy black coat and his vest of bright gold; He is "proud of his feathers," so I have been told, And I half believe what people say. His wife is a beauty, he's fond of her, too; He calls her his "Judy;" I like it, don't you? And he sings every day all the long summer through, Yet he is not a bit of a bore. For he's a musician of wonderful power; I could list to his beautiful voice by the hour, As he sings to his wife in their green, shady bower In the elm tree that shadows my door. He's a sociable neighbor, we like him full well, Although we've not called yet, and cannot quite tell All he says, tho' his voice is as clear as a bell, And as sweet as the notes of a psalm. Do you ask what his name is? Our dear little Sue Was anxious to know it, and asked him it, too, And this was his answer, I'll tell it to you-- "My name is Sir Oriole, ma'am." --_L. A. P., in Our Dumb Animals._ ---- BIRDS' NESTS. ---- THE nest of the mourning dove.--The nest of the Carolina or Mourning Dove, which authorities place on the horizontal limb of a tree, is not always found in this situation, as I can testify. Last year, while wandering in early May through a piece of low woodland in Amherst, Mass., my eye was caught by a pair of well-grown youngsters covered with bluish pin feathers. The nest containing them--a loose affair of small sticks and leaves--was placed on the ground, or rather on the decayed base of a stump, surrounded by a ring of second-growth birches. Immediately suspecting their identity, I merged myself in the landscape after the manner of bird-lovers, and was soon rewarded by a sight of the parent Doves, who came sweeping down from a neighboring tree, uttering their pensive call-note. The pair had been frequent visitors about the lawn and drive-way for a few weeks previous. I have heard of another similar instance of ground-nesting on the part of Wild Doves. --DORA READ GOODALE. ---- Wrens--That clumsy little bunch of animated feathers, the Wren, is undoubtedly the most contented of dwellers on the face of the earth. In country or city he is never homeless. Anything hollow, with an aperture large enough to admit his jaunty little self is sufficient, and so long as it remains undisturbed he is a happy tenant. The variety of sites selected by this agile little creature, is greater than that of any other bird. It has been said that "a Wren will build in anything from a bootleg to a bomb-shell." And this seems to be so. Many an urchin can testify to having found the neat nest of the Wren in his cast-off shoe or a tin can, and nests filled with Wren eggs are frequent finds in odd places around the battle fields of the South.