There was a large pond not very far away; and we often saw the squirrels go from tree to tree, jump a fence here and there, and run down behind a stone wall to the pond to get a drink, and then run home again. If they had only known as much as some squirrels we read about, what a nice sail they might have had by jumping on a piece of wood, and putting their bushy tails up in the air for a sail! Wouldn't it look funny to see a squirrel yacht-race? As we sit in our warm rooms this cold weather, we often wonder what the little fellows are doing, and if they are eating any of the nuts they stored away last summer. FREDDIE'S PAPA. WHAT A LITTLE BOY IN ENGLAND SAYS. MY grandfather and grandmother live in the country. Everybody in their house is very fond of birds, and very thoughtful for the comfort of all dumb creatures. Among the birds that flock about grandfather's house are the bright little tom-tits. They fly very quickly, and look very pretty, darting in and out of a tall evergreen-tree that grows in front of the dining-room window. [Illustration] In winter, my Aunt Emily has a pole, about four feet high, stuck in the ground near this tree. Across the top of the pole, a light bamboo stick is fastened, not quite as long as the pole is high. On strings tied at the ends of the bamboo stick, netted bags, filled with fat or suet, are hung. Now, tom-tits are, I think, the only birds in England that can cling to a thing with their heads hanging down; and they are very fond of fat. So they come to aunty's bags, cling to them as they sway to and fro in the wind, and eat to their little hearts' content. We watch them from the windows, and see what is going on. Sometimes other birds try very hard to get a share of the feast, particularly when the weather is very cold, and they cannot find much else. Then they will stand on the ground, looking at the bags, and now and then make an awkward spring at them, sometimes snatching a piece of suet, but generally failing to reach it. A tiny robin (an English robin is not at all like an American one) has practised so much, this cold weather, that he can not only get a taste of the suet by darting at it, but, better still, will sit on the top of the bag, and get at it in that way. But he seems very much afraid of falling off, and I think the tom-tits would laugh at him: perhaps they do, in bird fashion. When they cling, they do not mind where it is, and often seem to take the very bottom of the bag by choice, and hang there, with their heads down, so long, that it seems as though they would surely get the headache. I have often seen two, and sometimes three birds on a bag at a time. H. B. BIRMINGHAM, ENGLAND. [Illustration: OFF IN A HURRY.] THE FROGGIES' PARTY.