[Illustration: {A BOY AND A GIRL ON A SWING.}] HEAR US SING SEE US SWING UP IN THE OLD OAK TREE. O--oh! O--oh! Here we go, Now so high, Now so low; Soon, soon, We'll reach the moon; Hear us sing, See us swing, Up in the old oak-tree. O--oh! O--oh! To and fro, Like the birds, High and low; See us fly To the sky; Hear us sing, On the wing, Up in the old oak-tree. L. A. B. C. [Illustration: {TWO BOATS NEAR THE SHORE.}] SAILOR BABIES. [Illustration: {A PAIR OF BIRDS.}] Birds, and birds, and birds! Have you any idea how many kinds of birds there are? I am very sorry you could not count them all. And such queer fellows many of them are! There are butcher-birds and tailor-birds, soldier-birds--the penguins, you know, who stand on the sea-shore like companies of soldiers, "heads up, eyes front, arms (meaning wings) at the sides"--and sailor-birds. It is about one of the sailor-birds and his babies that I am going to tell you now. She is called the Little Grebe, or sometimes, by her intimate friends, the Dabchick. She is a pretty little bird, about nine inches long, with brown head and back, and grayish-white breast. She and her husband are both extremely fond of the water. "We are first cousins to the Divers!" they sometimes say proudly. "The Divers are never happy away from the water, and neither are we. It is very vulgar to live on land all the time. One might almost as well have four legs, and be a creature at once!" (The Divers are a very proud family, and speak of all quadrupeds as "creatures.") Mr. and Mrs. Grebe have very curiously webbed feet, looking more like a horse-chestnut leaf with three lobes than anything else. They are excellent swimmers and divers; indeed, in diving, the Great Northern Diver himself is not so quick and alert. If anything frightens them, pop! they are under the water in the shaking of a feather; and you may sometimes see them in a pond, popping up and down like little absurd Jacks-in-the-box. As they think the land so very vulgar, of course they do not want to bring up their children on it. [Illustration: {BIRDS ON THE RIVER.}] Oh, dear, no! They find a pleasant, quiet stream, or pond, where there are plenty of reeds and rushes growing in the water, and where there is no danger of their being disturbed by "creatures." Then they go to work and make a raft, a regular raft, of strong stems of water-plants, reeds, and arrow-heads, plaited and woven together with great care and skill. It is light enough to float, and yet strong enough to bear the weight of the mother-bird.