At the end of a week he varied his compliment to, “Pretty, pretty bird, where are you? Where are you?” with a kind of impatient jerk on the last “you.” He and his mate stayed near us all last summer, and though I heard him talk a hundred times, yet he always brought a feeling of gladness and a laugh. Our friend has come back again this spring. About May 1st I heard the same endearing compliment as before. Several of my friends whom I have told about him have asked, “Does he say the words plainly? Do you mean that he really talks?” My reply is, “He says them just as plainly as a bird ever says anything, so plainly, that even now I laugh whenever I hear him.” He is not very easily frightened, and sometimes talks quite a while when I am standing under the tree where he is. —Emily B. Pellet, Worcester, Mass., in _Bird-Lore_. A SONG OF THE ROSE-BREASTED GROSBEAK Hark! Hark! From the elm tree’s topmost spray, As the sun’s first spark O’erleaps the dark He sings to the dawning day. Over and over and over, the thrilling strain: Never more clear On love-tuned ear Burst forth love’s charmed refrain. Hark, hark, listen and hear! The robin’s whistle, the oriole’s note, Both are drowned In the golden sound That pours from the perfect throat. Sing, spirit of might, Bird of beauty and tune,— Sable-winged as a summer’s night, With the red-rose breast as soft, as bright As a rose-red dawn in June! Sing, sing to the rippling light, Sing to the paling moon! Sing, sing, sing Of a joy beyond our ken, Till the burdens of manhood loose their hold, And the heart grows young, and the Age of Gold Rolls back on the souls of men. —Dora Read Goodale, in _Youth’s Companion_. XXVII FLAG DAY The Spring Sale of the work of the Kind Hearts’ Club was held the Saturday after Arbour and Bird Day. People who had seen the bird-houses that their friends had bought at Christmas drove over from towns many miles away, while those who had been before came again and seemed perfectly fascinated by the birds’ baths and drinking-troughs made from the hollowed logs. The money thus being secure, the wayside drinking-fountain for man, beast, and bird was begun at once and before Memorial Day was completed and the water turned on, to Tommy’s great pride. Nor were the children obliged to spend all their pennies upon the work, for besides the actual money, they had earned something of more value—the confidence and co-operation of their own parents and of the neighbourhood.