“Ah, Sarah!” exclaimed Gray Lady, laughing, “I did not precisely forget, but I was waiting for some one of you to ask the question. The bird that is called the Chimney Swallow even exceeds the others in being forever on the wing and never perching or ‘sitting down,’ as Sarah calls it, and it is a brave insect destroyer. In fact, it never perches even for one moment, but when it does rest makes a sort of bracket of its sharply pointed tail-feathers and rests against a tree or inside the chimney, somewhat as a Woodpecker does when resting on an upright tree-trunk. The Woodpeckers, however, have very strong feet, and the feet of the Chimney Swallow are very weak. But here comes the funny part—this chimney bird isn’t a Swallow, and the Swallows would call him a changeling. He is a Swift, first cousin to the tiny Humming-bird and the mysterious Night Hawk and Whip-poor-Will, so we must leave his story until we come to that of the family where he belongs, for after we have learned the names of individual birds, it is well to know their family and kin. You cannot always tell by the plumage of birds if they are related. Louise Stone, Fannie White, and Esther Gray here are cousins, and all live in one house, but as their last names are different, and they do not look alike, a stranger would have to be told, for he could not guess that they belong to one household. “It is three o’clock already, and I see that Tommy and Dave have quite finished their windmills and Ruth’s apron is waiting for the pocket, so in spite of Farmer Hill’s remarks about ‘not working,’ every one has something to show for this Friday afternoon. “Before we go, let me see if you can tell the ‘_Things to remember_’ about the five swallows. “Sarah—the Barn Swallow?” “Shiny, steel-blue back and forked tail.” “Dave—the Bank Swallow?” “Dusty cloak fastened across the front.” “Ruth—the Tree Swallow?” “White satin breast.” “Roger—the Eaves Swallow?” “White on its forehead and all over mixed colours.” “And the Purple Martin? Who knows it?” “It’s the biggest of all and doesn’t fly quite so sudden. I’ve seen ’em up at Grandpa Miles’s in New York State,” said little Clary Hinks, and then blushing because she had dared to speak. “Next week in the playroom!” said Gray Lady, smiling over her shoulder at them as they filed out the door to the time beaten by Tommy’s drum. IX TWO BIRDS THAT CAME BACK (Birdland, September 27th.) The rain had poured steadily all Thursday and Friday, until Friday evening, and the wind blew so hard that many a little window-pane in the older farm-houses fell in with a crash and the owner, jumping up quickly to snatch the lamp out of the draught, would exclaim, “I do declare, we haven’t hed sech a genuine old-fashioned line-storm for years!”