We started the honeysuckle anew, and when it had climbed to the top of the cedar pole it spread out its foliage like an umbrella. The mocking-bird liked his old home, and he moved back to its branches in the spring. He has a nice family in his nest, and they give us music at all times, night and day. The father bird was as brave as a soldier. His special aversion is a large Newfoundland dog, who is one of our pets. The bird will dart down upon the dog's back, and make war upon him with a peculiar noise, until he drives him away. He does this because he thinks the dog will hurt the young in the nest. When there are no little ones he takes no notice of the dog. We think this is a great deal better than keeping the birds in a cage. They are tame, and stay with us all the time; but they will not allow themselves to be caught. VAN BUREN. [Illustration] TROTTIE'S DOINGS. TROTTIE is a cunning little boy, not quite three years old. His cradle is a little netted hammock. It is fastened at one end to his mamma's sewing-machine, and at the other to a hook in the wall. When Trottie grows tired he does not trouble his mamma, but gets into the little hammock and rocks himself to sleep. One day the door-bell rang. The little fellow picked up his mother's best bonnet, which she had placed upon the bed. Crushing it down over his little golden curly head he hastened to the door. [Illustration] He found the minister there, a tall, stately gentleman, wearing a stove-pipe hat. Trottie's strange appearance made the gentleman laugh, and he asked, "Where are you going, my little man?" Trottie made no answer, but, after a prolonged stare at the stove-pipe hat, asked, "Are you Mr. Yankee Doodle?" Mamma came down just then. Laughing, she invited the visitor in. Not long afterwards Trottie thought he would like to churn. When his mother's back was turned he put his two dear little kittens, "Starry Eyes" and "Bluebell," into the churn, and poured a cup of water over them. He was just lifting the dasher when his mother heard the kittens mewing and took them out. [Illustration] He loves the kittens dearly, and would not hurt them for anything. JENNIE JUDSON. [Illustration: "Seventeen, Eighteen, Maids in Waiting"] By Margaret Johnson: WHEN the western light is fading, And the deepening shadows fall, When the night winds through the branches Softly to each other call; When in grassy country meadows Heavy hang the clovers red, And the stars begin to twinkle In the dusky arch o'erhead; [Illustration] When within the crowded city Spring the dark lamps into flame, And long rows of lighted windows Set the street as in a frame; When the busy hours are over, Cares and worries put away, And the evening enters softly After the retreating day;