The colonel asked him if he would recommend spraying to get rid of the pests, and was advised to begin immediately, using tobacco water or whale-oil soap. "By the way," said the colonel, "there is a beetle attacking my shade trees. They are ruining that fine row of elms in front of the lawn." "It is undoubtedly the _melolontha vulgaris_," said the professor. I designate him in this way because he used such large words we did not understand. My mother told us that she was positive he was president of a college. "The _melolontha vulgaris_ is the most destructive of beetles, but the larvae are still more injurious. They do incalculable damage to the farmer. Fortunately enormous numbers of these grubs are eaten by the birds." "Unfortunately the birds are not so numerous as they used to be. They are being destroyed so rapidly, more's the pity! These grounds and woods yonder were formerly alive with birds of all kinds. Flocks of the purple grakle used to follow the plow and eat up the worms at a great rate. You are familiar with their habits? You know they are most devoted parents. I have often watched them feeding their young. The little ones have such astonishingly good appetites that it keeps the old folks busy to supply them with enough to eat. They work like beavers as long as daylight lasts, going to and from the fields carrying on each return trip a fat grub or a toothsome grasshopper." "I am a great lover of birds," returned the professor enthusiastically, "and I find them very interesting subjects of study. By the way, I was reading the other day a little incident connected with one of America's great men which impressed me deeply. The story goes that he was one day walking in company with some noted statesmen, busily engaged in conversation. But he was not too much occupied to notice that a young bird had fallen from its nest near the path where they were walking. He stopped short and crossing over to where the bird was lying, tenderly picked it up and put it back into its nest. There was a gentleman of a noble nature! No wonder that man was a leader and a liberator!" "Who was he?" "The grand, the great Abraham Lincoln," responded the professor impressively. "Well, he'd be the very one to do just such a kind deed as that," was the colonel's hearty response. "No man ever lived who had a bigger, more merciful heart than 'Honest Abe.'" For myself I did not know who Abraham Lincoln was. I had never heard the name before, but I was quite sure from the proud tone of the professor's voice that he was a distinguished man, as I was equally sure from the story of his pity for the helpless bird, that he was a good man. "You mentioned the industry of the grakle a moment ago," resumed the professor. "Do you know that the redwing is equally as useful, and besides he is a delightful singer? "The redwing flutes his o-ka-lee.