DEAR JACK: We were lately much interested in watching a family of Baltimore orioles that lived in a nest in a tree near our house. There were several young birds in the nest, that kept their father and mother busy all day long feeding them. The nest was rather small for its inmates, and some time ago a little bird fell out. Though the nest is about fifteen feet above the ground, it did not hurt itself. We saw it fall, and put it on a small tree near by, where its mother could see it. Afterward I climbed a ladder and put it in the nest. Then the mother bird arrived and hunted all over the small tree, trying to find it and give it something to eat, and seemed very anxious about it. It was a very pretty sight to watch her. This oriole’s nest has been in the tree for some years. It hangs from one of the highest limbs, to which it is fastened by strong cords made from the material of which the nest is built. We are glad to have orioles about, for they feed the young birds with insects injurious to the garden and orchard. Insects seem to be their principal food; and I have seen them eat hornet’s eggs. The name “oriole” is from the old French “oriol,” which is derived from the Latin “aureolus,” meaning golden. They are sometimes called “golden robins.” The orchard oriole, which we occasionally see, is of a pure yellow color, with stripes of black on its back, and is about the size of a canary-bird. The colors of the Baltimore oriole are orange and black. They are so called because orange and black were the colors of the coat of arms of Lord Baltimore, who was Governor of Maryland under King Charles I. Respectfully, NORMAN T. SAUNDERS. A WISE HUMMING-BIRD. Wisdom does not depend on size, as you all know, my dears. The ant and the bee, in fact, often seem to know more than some of the largest animals. The humming-bird, too, though the smallest of birds, is not lacking in intelligence. A friend of the Deacon tells a pleasant little story of one that was trying to secure the honey from a flower with a deep cup, and at the same time was plainly very tired. The flower grew near a porch where a family was sitting, and seeing the trouble of the bird, a young girl walked slowly toward him, holding out her finger. The tired bird looked sharply at her and then accepted the offered perch, alighted on the finger, and, when it was held close to the flower, returned to his work of honey-gathering. The girl stood quietly, and he used her finger as a resting-place till he had finished his meal, when he flew away home. A wise humming-bird that, say I,—and a wise girl, too. THE PITCHER PLANT.