The oriole's nest is the poetry of bird architecture, be it swung in an apple-tree or an elm or a maple, or under a leaf. Her slender beak is her needle, her shuttle her hands, her one means of livelihood. We may call her fabric a tangle if we will; to the eye of Mother Nature it is a texture surpassing human ingenuity, the art for making which has descended by instinct to all her family. It is as beautiful as seaweed, as intricate as the network of a foxglove leaf, and suggests the indefinite strands of a lace-work spider's cocoon. All homage to the oriole! What a piece of good fortune it is that they Come faithfully back to us every May; No matter how far in the winter they roam, They are sure to return to their summer home. What money could buy such a suit as this? What music can match that voice of his? And who such a quaint little house could build, To be with a beautiful family filled? O happy winds that shall rock them soft, In their swinging cradle hung high aloft; O happy leaves that the nest shall screen. And happy sunbeams that steal between. Celia Thaxter. CHAPTER VII THE BIOGRAPHY OF A CANARY-BIRD Sing away, aye, sing away. Merry little bird, Always gayest of the gay. Though a woodland roundelay You ne'er sung nor heard; Though your life from youth to age Passes in a narrow cage. Near the window wild birds fly. Trees are waving round; Fair things everywhere you spy Through the glass pane's mystery. Your small life's small bound; Nothing hinders your desire But a little gilded wire. Mrs. Craik. He didn't look very much like a bird, being mostly a big little stomach, as bare of feathers as a beechnut just out of the burr, with here and there on the head and back a tuft of down. His eyelids bulged prominently, but did not open, sight being unnecessary in consideration of the needs of his large stomach. Said needs were partially satisfied every few minutes with the nursing-bottle. And a very primitive nursing-bottle it was, being no other than the beak of the parent bird thrust far down the little throat, as is the family custom of the rest of the finches.