It is believed here that crows hold meetings, and decide upon the punishment due to other crows that have been bad; for they have often been seen to gather in large numbers, and, after chattering like magpies for a time, take one of their number, and peck him severely, sometimes even killing him. Good-by, dear old "Nursery." Your little friend, LEON K. DAVIS. PRAIRIE DOGS. HOW many of the bright-eyed boys and girls who read "The Nursery," or hear it read, month after month, ever saw a prairie-dog village? Ah! I see several little hands up. "The Nursery" has many readers in Western Kansas; and there is the very place where prairie-dog villages are found. I will tell you about my first visit to one of them. As we were riding over the beautiful green prairie, we came to a place dotted here and there with hillocks about a foot high, and on each sat a funny little yellow dog. These little hills, which have a hole in the top for a door, are the houses of the prairie-dogs. They would let us come quite close to them, when, with a comical squeak, intended, I suppose, for a bark, down they would go, head first, into the holes, giving their tails a "good-by" shake. The noise they make sounds exactly like the noise made by toy-animals when you press them in your hands. Fifty prairie-dogs all barking together could not be heard very far. On a number of the hills sat solemn old owls, trying to look very wise. Most of these owls sat perfectly still as we drove by; but I saw two or three fly slowly away, as if half asleep. I wonder if these sober old birds teach the little prairie-dogs any of their wisdom. All the prairies in this part of Kansas are covered with a short, thick grass, called "buffalo-grass," and the dogs live on its roots. These roots are little bulbs, and make nice rich food for the funny little fellows. A gentleman who has lived here for many years tells me that all their houses are connected underground by halls or passages, so that they can travel a mile or so without coming to the top of the ground. Wherever you see a prairie-dog village, there you will find good water by digging a few feet. Sometimes boys capture these queer little dogs, and they become quite tame and make cunning pets. MARY MAXWELL RYAN. [Illustration] [Illustration] THE STREET-PLAYER. UNDER my window I hear a sound, The scrape of a fiddle, the clatter of feet; And a curious crowd of boys and men Has gathered there in the street. And in their midst is a little child, With ragged shoes and a brimless hat, Not bigger than Hop-O'-my-Thumb, at most, And wan and thin at that. I see his fingers like little claws, His berry-brown eyes, and wistful smile, As he plies the bow of his fiddle fast, And tries to sing meanwhile.