restless. Something calls me, and I feel that I must fly away, too."

[Illustration: Two birds flying over a field]

"Let us fly away together!" the mother bird said.

Then they rose silently up in the air. They looked to the north; far
away they saw the snow coming. They looked to the south; there they saw
green leaves.

All day they flew. All night they flew and flew, till they found a land
where there was no winter. There it was summer all the time; flowers
always blossomed and birds always sang.

--HENRY WARD BEECHER




BOB WHITE


There's a plump little chap in a speckled coat,
And he sits on the zigzag rails remote,
Where he whistles at breezy, bracing morn,
When the buckwheat is ripe, and stacked is the corn:
"Bob White! Bob White! Bob White!"

Is he hailing some comrade as blithe as he?
Now I wonder where Robert White can be!