A day or two after, Johnnie came running in, and said, "Auntie, the birds are carrying off all your old rags out there," pointing to the place where the laces were spread. Out I went to see about my "old rags," as he called them; and I found that several pieces were missing. We knew that the birds must have taken them; but, where to look for them, we could not tell. That afternoon, Johnny invited me and his cousins to take a row with him in his boat to Rocky Island, of which the readers of "The Nursery" have heard before. We were all glad to go. As we were passing some bushes on the bank of the river, one of us spied something white among them. We wondered what it could be. Johnny rowed nearer; and we could see that it was a piece of lace. Rowing nearer still, we saw another piece, and another, and at the same time heard the flutter of wings. We then asked to be landed, and our boatman soon brought us to shore in fine style. On parting the bushes, we saw a nest just begun, and a piece of lace near it, but not woven in. Close by were four other pieces; but they were all caught by the little twigs, so that the bird could not get them to the nest. We took the lace off carefully, leaving the nest as it was, and brought it away with us. On returning to the house, the children measured the lace, and found nearly six yards, the largest piece being about two yards. It seemed quite a lift for the little birds; and it was too bad that after all they did not get the use of it. But do you think they were discouraged? Oh, no! for they soon had a nice nest built; and one day Johnny found an egg in the nest, which, from its bright hue, he knew to be a robin's egg. This was followed by other eggs, and, in due time, by a whole brood of young birds. AUNT ABBIE. [Illustration] A ROUGH SKETCH. HERE is a boy drawing on a wall. He is a shoemaker's boy. His name is Bob. Tom, the baker's boy, and a little girl named Ann are looking on. "What is it?" asks Ann at sight of the picture. "It's a fine lady, of course," says Tom. "Don't you see her head-dress and her sun-shade?" Bob is so busy that he cannot stop to talk. He is well pleased with his work. But the man who is looking around the corner of the wall does not look pleased in the least. It is plain that he has no love for the fine arts. Or it may be that he does not like to see such a rough sketch on his wall. Perhaps he thinks that when boys are sent on an errand, they ought not to loiter by the way. A. B. C. [Illustration] PETER'S PETS. "HOW old are they, Peter?" asked Ralph Lamson, pointing to two little guinea-pigs on a rude cage which Peter had himself made. "I've had them about six weeks," said Peter. "I don't know how old they were then; but they were only little things: they've grown twice as big since I've had them." "What do you give them to eat?" asked Edwin Moore.