By Carrie Cathcart Day. “Where do you go, Sweet, happy bird, When wild winds blow And storms are heard? Do you not dread the rushing rain, And wish the sky was bright again?” “Tweet oh! I fly To nestlings near-- To hush their cry, And soothe their fear; And o’er them all my wings I fold, To keep them safely from the cold.” “Where do you run, Dear little duck? Is the rain fun, And best of luck?” “Oh, yes! Quack! quack! I swim in glee, It never pours too hard for me!” “Of course, good sheep, You do not care-- Out-doors you keep Through foul and fair; Your coat is surely thick enough To shield you from a tempest rough?” “Baa! baa! baa! baa! I let the geese Have all the wet; For should my fleece All soaking get, ’Twould be too heavy for my play-- So to my shed I skip away.” “Why do you croak So long and loud, Queer froggie folk, When comes a cloud?” “Cree-crake! cree-crake! Because our pollywogs, we know, When ponds are full will nicely grow!” “But, bumble-bee, Your gauzy wings, It seems to me, Are flimsy things; Should they get drenched, ’twould spoil them quite, And you’d be in a sorry plight!” “I crawl beneath A lily bell-- A lovely sheath That suits me well, And when--buzz! buzz!--the sun I greet, The roses all are fresh and sweet.” “Well, surely you, My little lad, Feel very blue In weather sad? You mope and fret and whine and frown, To see the torrents driving down!” “Oh, ho! oh, ho! You do not know; For _thus_, you see, My trowsers go Up to my knee; I make believe to wade and splash In puddles nice, with Puss and Dash, And we pretend the shower pours As hard _within_ as out of doors!” JACK-A-DANDY. BY HELEN WHITNEY CLARK. We children had been wishing for a tame crow ever since reading Dickens’ charming description of his pet raven. There were no ravens where we lived; but Brother Tom said crows were just as good, and could be taught to talk, too. And one day, when we were playing “Here we go round the mulberry bush” in the woods near the house, little Ikey, our colored washerwoman’s boy, came along with a live crow in his hands. Of course we were curious to see and examine the wonderful bird, and we crowded around Ikey, who seemed bewildered at being the object of so much attention. “Where did you get him?” “What you going to do with him?” “How much will you take for him?” asked Tom, Josie and Fred, in one breath. But Ikey only grinned, as he answered each in turn.