As soon as the first bluebird warbles they begin to work in their flower and vegetable garden, and from then until it is time to cover the verbena-beds in the fall I rarely pass without seeing one or more of them, with sunbonnet on head and hoe in hand, busy at work. Besides keeping their little front yard a mass of gorgeous bloom and their vegetable garden free from weed or stone, they raise canary-birds to sell and take care of a dozen hives of bees. Last fall I frequently saw all three of them in the yard, with a neighbor or two called in for conference, and all twittering and chattering like blackbirds in March. Finally, the mystery was solved. Going past one day, I saw a carpenter deliberately cutting out the whole end of the house, and soon a large bay-window made its appearance. When this was completed three rows of shelves were put up inside close to the glass, and immediately filled with plants in pots and tin cans. What endless occupation and entertainment the watering and watching and tending of these must afford the sisters during winter! Neither does another neighbor of mine supply the type I seek--the old Quaker farmer, who is discontented and changeable in his disposition, having lived in Indiana a while, then in Iowa, then in Indiana again, and who is now in Iowa for the second time. He rents some land which lies just across the railroad, and in summer, when he is ploughing the growing corn, I hear him talking to his horse. He calls her a "contrary old jade," and jerks the lines and saws her mouth, and says, "Get over in that other row, I tell thee!" Once I heard him mutter to her, when he was leading her home after the day's work was done, "I came as near killin' thee to-day as ever I did."