“Now is a chance for you to look at the map. The Song Sparrow as we know him lives east of the Rockies. Start at the extreme northern portion of Alaska. Here is found the largest of the race, the Aleutian Song Sparrow. Next come down to the coast of British Columbia and Southern Alaska, where the rainfall is one hundred and twenty-five inches in a year, and you see the home of the Sooty Song Sparrow, the darkest in colour of all. “If you then travel farther to the desert regions of Nevada and Arizona, where the rainfall is only six inches, you will find the palest of all, the Desert Song Sparrow; and, finally, on the border between Mexico and Central America, lives the Mexican Song Sparrow, the smallest of the tribe.[4] “So, wherever we wander our country over, we find this bird to be a reminder of home, which, after all, is the best thing that can happen to us, wherever we go or whatever we see; for the proof that journeys are healthful for body and mind lies in the joy with which, like the bird wanderers, we turn homeward at the end. “You children may not think of this now. You may think, possibly, that home is dull and full of work, that the birds and flowers of other places are better. Wait a few years and see. Wait until you have been so far away that you could not get home, or have been filled with dread that a day was near when there would be no home there. Then return, and stand under the sky at evening, and listen to the voice of the Song Sparrow down in the alders, and you will not only know that God is very near, but that He is very good, and a part of your home itself. THE SONG SPARROW There is a bird I know so well, It seems as if he must have sung Beside my crib when I was young; Before I knew the way to spell The name of even the smallest bird, His gentle, joyful song I heard. Now see if you can tell, my dear, What bird it is that every year, Sings “Sweet-sweet-sweet, very merry cheer.” He comes in March when winds are strong, And snow returns to hide the earth; But still he warms his heart with mirth, And waits for May. He lingers long While flowers fade; and every day Repeats his small contented lay, As if to say, we need not fear The season’s change, if love is here, With “Sweet-sweet-sweet, very merry cheer.” He does not wear a Joseph’s coat Of many colours, smart and gay: His suit is Quaker brown and gray, With darker patches at his throat. And yet of all the well-dressed throng Not one can sing so brave a song. It makes the pride of looks appear A vain and foolish thing, to hear His “Sweet-sweet-sweet, very merry cheer.” —Henry Van Dyke, from _The Builders and Other Poems_. * * * * * ROBIN REJOICE