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Page OCTOBER'S BRIGHT BLUE WEATHER. 97 SONNET--OCTOBER. 98 SONNET--AUTUMN. 98 THE COLUMBINE. 101 THE RUFFED GROUSE. 102 THE BLUE GENTIANS. 107 TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN. 108 THE BABY LIONS. 109 SUNFLOWERS AND DAISIES. 110 A TRUE STORY OF A WAYWARD BOB WHITE. 113 THE OSWEGO TEA. 116 FLOWERS AND THEIR UNBIDDEN GUESTS. 119 HOW WE MAY BEST PAY THE DEBT. 122 A FEW OF THE BIRD FAMILY. 125 THE DOMESTIC FOWL. 125 BOB WHITE. 128 THE RAINBOW TROUT. 131 DAY AND NIGHT. 132 THE GEOLOGICAL SUCCESSION OF FISHES. 133 THE DEEP. 139 THE AMERICAN REDSTART. 140 THE FLYING FISH. 141

OCTOBER'S BRIGHT BLUE WEATHER.

O suns and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together, Ye cannot rival for one hour October's bright blue weather.

When loud the bumble-bee makes haste, Belated, thriftless vagrant, And golden-rod is dying fast, And lanes with grapes are fragrant;

When gentians roll their fringes tight To save them for the morning, And chestnuts fall from satin burrs Without a sound of warning;

When on the ground red apples lie In piles like jewels shining, And redder still on old stone walls Are leaves of woodbine twining;

When all the lovely wayside things Their white-winged seeds are sowing, And in the fields, still green and fair, Late aftermaths are growing;

When springs run low, and on the brooks, In idle golden freighting, Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush Of woods, for winter waiting;

O suns and skies and flowers of June, Count all your boasts together, Love loveth best of all the year October's bright blue weather. Helen Hunt Jackson.

SONNET--OCTOBER.

Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath! When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf, And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, And the year smiles as it draws near its death. Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay In the gay woods and in the golden air, Like to a good old age released from care, Journeying, in long serenity, away. In such a bright, late quiet, would that I Might wear out life like thee, 'mid bowers and brooks, And dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks, And music of kind voices ever nigh; And when my last sand twinkled in the glass, Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass. --William Cullen Bryant.

SONNET--AUTUMN.

Thou comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain, With banners, by great gales incessant fanned, Brighter than brightest silks of Samarcand, And stately oxen harnessed to thy wain! Thou standest, like imperial Charlemagne, Upon thy bridge of gold; thy royal hand Outstretched with benedictions o'er the land, Blessing the farms through all thy vast domain. Thy shield is the red harvest moon, suspended So long beneath the heaven's o'erhanging eaves; Thy steps are by the farmer's prayers attended; Like flames upon an altar shine the sheaves; And following thee, in thy ovation splendid, Thine almoner, the wind, scatters the golden leaves!

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

THE COLUMBINE.

Botanically the Columbine is called Aquilegia, from the Latin word Aquila, meaning an eagle, in reference to a fancied likeness of the spurs of its flowers to the talons of an eagle. It is one of the crowfoot family .

This pretty and herbaceous perennial is distributed over most of the north temperate zone and, if not altogether a child of the mountains, it may be sought in rocky or stony localities. One is surprised to find the graceful Columbine, defying the storms, with its roots carefully fastened in the deep crevasses of the rocks of rugged mountains and protruding its nodding flowers above some steep ledge where human foot has never trod. To many a weary wayfarer this little hermit flower has brought joy and pleasure. Though attractive to the lover of flowers, it is not met with in folklore nearly as frequently as many other species of plants that are far less attractive.

The genus Aquilegia includes about twenty species and an endless number of varieties, produced by the skill and intelligence of the gardener. The United States can claim the prettiest of all the species of this widely distributed group. One species is the Wild Columbine of our illustration. It is common everywhere. Here it is found covering rocky hills, softening the harsh gray of the rocks with its delicate foliage; there it enlivens the woodland borders with its nodding and pretty scarlet flowers, which are lined with bright yellow. In the woods it is frequently encountered, though not as robust in its growth, as if in this sheltered position less strength is required. Another species, and the most elegant of all the Columbines, is the blue Rocky Mountain form . It is at home in the Grand Canon of the Colorado, where its wild grace and untrammeled native beauty is unsurpassed. Among the other species that should be mentioned are the Yellow Columbine of the Western States, and its sister, also yellow, the Pubescent Columbine of the Death Valley of California. The Rocky Mountain and Yellow Columbines furnish the finest garden forms and are the parents of several beautiful varieties. Europe has its common form and also Alpine species, which, though outranked by our native species, are the originals of many of the single and double varieties of the garden.

Though it has been stated that the Columbines prefer the rocky hillsides, it must not be supposed that they will not tolerate a home in the border of a garden flower bed. Like many other plants of a similar nature, they thrive under cultivation, where a sunny and sheltered position is more suitable. One of the most beautiful of the garden varieties, or hybrids, is the double-flowered Skinner's Columbine.

The Columbines have been called "the flowers for the masses." Once started in the garden they will propagate for years and, although perennial, they increase rapidly by self-sown seed. The young plants will acquire sufficient size and strength, before the close of the growing season, to endure the trying winter weather. James Jensen.

THE RUFFED GROUSE.

Who knows the joy a bird knows, When it goes fleetly? Who knows the joy a flower knows, When it blows sweetly? Bird wing and flower stem, Break them who would? Bird wing and flower stem, Make them who could?

This world is very beautiful and the birds and flowers help to make it so. When we think what the world would be without the fluttering of wings and the carols of birds, without the color and perfume of the lilies and roses and the myriads of wild flowers that lift their pretty heads from banks of dainty moss or nod to their reflection in the clear waters of the brook, we begin to feel what beauty they possess and what a grace they give to our lives.

Birds have been named often from their appearance. The name grouse means gray hen, and this family of game birds as a whole is of this color.

I must now tell you of a wonderful thing that happened just a while ago. You all know about the Queen's Diamond Jubilee over in England? The papers every day gave interesting accounts of the Queen and her people, how they loved her, how they applauded her whenever she showed her good, kind face to them.

I had said to my brother that I wished I could see such a wonderful jubilee, when he replied: "Can you keep a secret?" "Of course you know that I can!" "Listen, then," he whispered softly, "if you wish to see some things as strange as the Queen's Jubilee be ready on your wheel at 11 tonight. Say not a word to any one." "But where are we going?" I asked. "That I shall not tell you; if you care to come, all right; if not, I shall go alone." Of course I was ready. Our wheels seemed to rise into the air, and, flying swiftly as the wind, we at last alighted in a nest of hills, a lovely spot. The moonlight was shining and strange winged figures were flitting about. One of them challenged us, but when the password, "Jubilee," was given he let us pass. The air was filled with the whirring of wings and the voices of the birds. They seemed to be very busy getting ready for some great event. Suddenly a drumming noise was heard and all the birds were still. Looking at the open space I saw a log and standing proudly there was a fine ruffed grouse. Soon he spoke: "Brothers of the grouse family, long have I waited for this day. It is the proudest moment of my life. To the broad prairies and lofty hills of America I bid you welcome, O, my brothers! I am glad so many of the ladies are present, too," and then Mr. Grouse spread his ruff so wide that we could hardly see his head, and made several low bows to the grouse hens who fluttered their sober gray wings. "In the name of all the grouse in America I welcome you. And now, brother and sister grouse, I have the honor of introducing the Cock-o'-the-woods, who will take the log."

The drumming and whirring of wings and cries of "Cock, cock!" that followed this speech of the ruffed grouse almost deafened us.

At last Mr. Capercailzie, called by his intimate friends Cock-o'-the-woods, advanced to the log. Ah, but he was a handsome bird! Very large, he weighed at least sixteen pounds, with brilliant plumage of black, brown and white, and dark green feathers in his chest. The scarlet patches of skin over his eyes were very bright in the moonlight. He looked slowly around, bowing to the applause, and said:

"I thank you for your welcome. In the name of all who have come from distant lands, from Asia and Europe, I thank you. We have come to hold a Grouse Jubilee. Surely we may well hold such a meeting and review our history and accomplishments, if the people who are really only new comers into our lands can hold a jubilee over a Queen whose family have been in England but a few hundred years. What are a hundred years in the history of our family who lived in England and northern Europe thousands of years ago?

"I will call upon the willow grouse to tell us the history of our famous family as he knows it."

Slowly Mr. Willow Grouse advanced to the log, chewing the bud of a birch tree as he came.

He bowed and said: "Mr. Chairman, you must excuse my slow speech, but you know I am the eldest brother of the grouse family and am not so strong as I used to be. Our history is certainly wonderful! Thousands of years ago we came southward with the ice and as the ice melted we flew north again. Today we live in many lands. I have traveled from Scandinavia with my wife and children, flying over Siberia and Alaska. My wife and I dress alike and our gray summer suits are good for traveling. In winter we prefer white coats, for then the hunter can not tell us from the snow." Just then a bird near us muttered: "That is nothing remarkable. I have three suits every year." "Hush," said a bird near him, "you must not interrupt."

But the willow grouse had finished, and after the young grouse had given him the front seat, for they are very kind to the old, the grouse who had boasted of his coats said: "Mr. President, I come from the high mountain peaks. Men call me ptarmigan or winged, because I have such thick plumage. As this is summer my legs and feet are quite bare and my coat is the color of the twigs, but you should see my winter suit! It is thick and soft and white as snow, and thick downy stockings cover my feet. They help me to make my way over the snow. In the autumn my coat changes to gray--the color of the rocks on the mountain side. It is hard work sometimes to find enough to eat so high up in the mountains, but better a dish of leaves in freedom than to live on plenty in constant fear of the gun of the hunter." "Cock, cock!" said the grouse, and it sounded so much like our "hear, hear!" that I almost laughed aloud.

"The next number on our program will be a waltz," said the chairman. "A waltz," I thought; "grouse waltzing; whoever heard of such a thing?" Just then a handsome young capercailzie came to the log. It is not strange they are called the "cocks-of-the-wood," for they are certainly the handsomest of the grouse family. He puffed out his feathers, strutted back and forth on the log and began his waltz. It was a comical sight! While he was dancing he kept up the oddest singing--all on one note. Soon a black cock joined him and then they tried to show off. Some hens favored the capercailzie and some gathered around the black cock. At last all took sides, and it would have ended in a fight, only the dignified chairman stopped the dance and told them to remember that this was not a fight, but a jubilee. The cocks lowered their wings, but I believe they will fight it out sometime.

"Let us hear from the red grouse; let us hear from the red grouse!" cried several birds at once. A small bird with rich red-brown plumage came to the log.

"This is the first time I have ever been away from Great Britain," said the red grouse, "and I must be back for the 12th of August. That is an exciting day! All summer my wife and I keep with the children and live in peace, but on that day the hunters come. It is great fun to wait till they come very near and then whiz past so quickly that the shot does not reach you!" "Great fun, indeed!" muttered the ptarmigan; "fun for the hunter to slay his thousands every year." "Yes, that is true," replied the red grouse, "but we live in safety all the year except the hunting season. The keepers and the hunters keep the eagle and the fox and all our foes away, and our family of red grouse in Scotland is larger now than before the hunters came. It is because we are on the moors that all the wealthy people come to Scotland in August. Thousands of strangers fill the land, and they all come for us, the little red grouse who live only on British moors. We are proud of the fact that we are the only bird that belongs to Great Britain alone. We take care of our young together, my mate and I, and in October we join other families and fly to the uplands."

Just here the hens of the capercailzie and the black cock began a noisy clatter. "I wish our husbands were like the red grouse," said one. "I think it is a perfect shame," said another; "my mate never stays near the nest. When I must leave the eggs to hunt for food he is never there to keep them warm." "I wish I were a willow grouse or a red grouse," said another demure little hen. The black cocks and the capercailzie looked rather ashamed; even the chairman hung his head, but he quickly called the hens to order, saying: "Now we will hear from our American friend, the ruffed grouse."

"Wake up! Wake up! You have been sleeping in the moonlight!" "Where is the ruffed grouse?" I sleepily ask, and then my brother laughs and asks what I have been dreaming. So it was all a dream, and the moonlight, the pines, the grouse and the jubilee have been but parts of a dream! "You awoke me and now you must tell me about the ruffed grouse," I say to my brother.

"Well, you must know that there are many varieties of grouse in our broad land, but the ruffed grouse is the gamiest and handsomest in plumage of all the grouse family. It is swifter on the wing and harder to shoot.

"This bird is called ruffed grouse because he can raise the numerous wide soft feathers on each side of the neck and make a ruff like those the ladies used to wear when Elizabeth was Queen of England.

"His favorite home is in the heavy bird forests or in the thickets of the scrub oak and he is seldom found in places open enough for good hunting with the dogs.

"When disturbed, the birds fly like an arrow for the thickest shelter. They dart behind the tree trunks or light upon its branches, and are so still and so exactly the color of the tree that they look like part of it.

"The ruffed grouse are found in all parts of the United States. They go in pairs or in small companies. The drumming noise made by the male when he is calling his mate is a very pleasant sound in the woods and may sometimes be heard a mile away.

"He selects a hollow log, struts back and forth upon it, and at last strikes his sides with his wings so rapidly that the noise resembles distant thunder. When his mate comes he raises his ruff until his head is almost hidden. He spreads his tail like a fan, and tries to make himself lovely in her eyes.

"They build their nest on the ground. It is made of grass, twigs and leaves. The mother-bird is very clever in protecting her young brood. If she hears someone near, she gives a cluck and they disappear, while she moves slowly along trying to lead the intruder away from the nest. When she can get behind a tree she flies swiftly away, coming back to the nest when she thinks all is safe.

"Go to sleep again and perhaps you will have another dream," laughed my brother. "That is all interesting, but I am sorry I did not hear the ruffed grouse tell his own story." Florence Holbrook.

THE BLUE GENTIANS.

During the reign of King Gentius, Illyria was devastated by the plague. So great was the mortality among his subjects, the pious king appointed a season of fasting, and prayed that if he shot an arrow into the air the Almighty would direct its descent, guiding it to some herb possessed of sufficient virtue to arrest the course of the disease. The king shot the arrow and in falling it cleft the root of a plant which, when tested, was found to possess the most astonishing curative powers, and did much to lessen the ravages of the plague. The plant from that time on became known as the Gentian, in honor of the good king, whose supplications brought about the divine manifestation of its medicinal properties.

The old herbalists called the Gentian Baldmoyne, or Feldwode. The first of these names is supposed to have been derived from the Latin valde bona, meaning very good. It was regarded as a specific for poisons and pestilence, and an excellent remedy for wounds caused by mad dogs. The term Feldwode carries the associations of the plant back to the time of Greek myths and fables. Tellus, the goddess of the earth, possessed the power to produce plants potent for enchantments. Hence, when Medea besought Tellus to evolve a plant which would give the element of renewed youth to the mixture in her caldron, the goddess produced the Gentian or Feldewode, which restored to the aged Aeson the freshness and vigor of youth.

The genus Gentiana includes nearly two hundred species distributed from boreal to tropical regions, although the majority are found in the north temperate zone. A large number of species are found in Europe, more than sixty having been reported from Russia, and there are nearly one hundred in North America. Several very beautiful forms come from the Swiss Alps, which rarely attain a height of more than three or four inches. The deep blue flowers of these diminutive specimens retain their color for years after being pressed for the herbarium, thus differing from many of the larger forms, whose corollas quickly fade.

One of the most attractive and familiar of the Gentians is the fringed or blue Gentian . It is generally found in low grounds, along water courses or ditches, and while quite generally distributed, it is sparing of its favors, as the long peduncles that terminate the stems or simple branches, support but a single flower. The plant grows to a height of from one to two feet, and the leaves, placed opposite to each other, have rounded or heart-shaped bases attached directly to the stems, entire edges and tapering points. The sky-blue flower is bell-shaped, nearly two inches long and with the lobes strongly fringed. This is partially enclosed by a calyx, which is nearly as long as the corolla.

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