—Mary Nowlan Wittwer, Adelphi, Ohio.

THE LOGAN ELM.

The Logan Elm, about six miles from Circleville, with five acres of park surrounding it, is now the property of the Ohio Historical and Archaeological Society, having been transferred to that organization by the Pickaway Historical Association on October 2, 1912. It is altogether proper that this historic tree and ground should become the property of Ohio so that every person in our commonwealth may feel a proprietary interest in this spot and all that it means.

We have traveled far on the pathway of civilization since the day when the Chief of the Mingoes made this spot memorable by his native eloquence, but we do well to look back, now and again, to these landmarks so as to catch a view of the road over which we have come. Such a view gives us courage and spirit for the journey that lies before us for we are made to feel that since we have done this much we shall be able to do even more and better.

In his historical collections Howe says of the speech of Logan: "It was repeated throughout the North American Colonies as a lesson of eloquence in the schools, and copied upon the pages of literary journals in Great Britain and the Continent. This brief effusion of mingled pride, courage and sorrow, elevated the character of the native American throughout the intelligent world; and the place where it was delivered can never be forgotten so long as touching eloquence is admired by men."

This being true, it is quite fitting that the schools shall place this speech in the category of eloquence and give the children to know that real eloquence is the expression of deep and sincere emotion. The Logan Elm remains to us the visible symbol of an example of this sort of eloquence and our celebration of Arbor Day will be all the more inspiring if all the children come to know the meaning of this tree and feel the real eloquence of the speech.

The version of the speech here given is found in Jefferson's Notes and is as follows:

—F. B. Pearson.

LITTLE DOG TRAY.

—By Walter P. Neff.

A KIPLING TRIBUTE.

—By Lee A. Dollinger.

"MAN'S BEST FRIEND."

Senator Vest had been retained as the Attorney of a man whose dog had been wantonly shot by a neighbor. The plaintiff demanded $200.00.

When Vest finished speaking the jury awarded $500.00 without leaving their seats. This is what he said:

"Gentlemen of the Jury: The best friend a man has in this world may turn against him and become his enemy. His son or daughter that he has reared with loving care may prove ungrateful. Those who are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name, may become traitors to their faith. The money that a man has he may lose. It flies away from him, perhaps when he needs it most.

"A man's reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill considered action. The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do us honor when success is with us, may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its cloud upon our heads. The one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous is his dog.

"A man's dog stands by him in prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master's side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer. He will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounter with the roughness of the world. He will guard the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert, he remains.

"When riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces he is as constant in his love, as the sun on its journey through the heavens. If misfortune drives the master forth an outcast in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against his enemies, and when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in his embrace and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by his grave side will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even in death."

—Van Dyke.

THE REDSTARTS.

Cordelia J. Stanwood, Ellsworth, Me.

Reprints from Nature and Culture.

The redstart is one of the most beautiful of the warblers. It flutters through the branches like the sunbeams through the dancing leaves; again, it suggests a darting flame or a gorgeous autumn-leaf tossed hither and thither by the wind.

The redstart winters in the tropics—Mexico, South America, and the West Indies—but nests in almost every part of North America east of the Rockies. The female models an exquisite statant, increment nest, well set down in the crotch of a tree, but the kind of a tree selected and the materials used vary in different localities.

The most beautiful nest I ever found was located sixteen feet from the ground, in the crotch of a white birch. The support was formed by the main trunk and several ascending, rudimentary branches. When I looked up into the tree a tiny, fluffy mass of white birch curls attracted my attention. On this cushion the nest was shaped of similar curls of white birch bark and partially decomposed inner bark, fiber; the rim, firm and well modeled, consisted of what looked like split culms of hay, but I decided that it must be the outside of decayed goldenrod stems. It was lined with horse hair, human hair, and the feathers of the female. A daintier, warmer, safer, little cradle no bird could desire.

Another nest, located in a maple five feet high from the ground, was placed on a foundation of dead leaves, coarse meadow grass, and white birch bark. The cup was constructed of fine cedar bark fiber; the outside was ornamented with the white egg cases of some insect. The nest had a beautifully turned brim of the same material as was used in the former nest. The lining, likewise, was of goldenrod fiber, and a few of the green and yellow feathers of the female. As usual, more or less spider's floss entered into the composition of this well-made structure. The dwelling strikingly corresponded in color with the gray maple crotch that supported it. Each house was well adapted to its surroundings.

The female builds the nest almost unassisted and appears, likewise to incubate and brood the young. The male, however, sings from his varied repertoire to cheer his mate at her task, and assists the female in feeding the young and cleansing the domicile, but when disturbed by an observer, the female is more assiduous than the male in her attentions to their offspring.

Usually when a person attempts to inspect a redstart's nest containing young, the female drops from the nest a dead weight and falls from branch to branch of any tree in the way, striking the ground with a dull thud. Her next move is to trail a helpless wing along the ground. At another time she flies from the nest and alights on the ground with spread wings and tail. The yellow markings on the wing and tail show conspicuously as the bird moves forward by the wings, as if her legs were too weak to sustain her weight. At the same time the bird twitters very softly, almost inaudibly; in other words, she feigns the helplessness of a young bird. These pretty deceptions, the expression of the mother instinct, always appeal to me very strongly.

While studying a family of redstarts that lived in a gray birch some twelve feet above the ground, the hen and one nestling disappeared. Across the hayfield from the grove of the birds that I was observing was a bit of woodland to which both redstarts resorted frequently, presumably for feed. Here was the nest of a redstart containing four fresh eggs. That day I arranged with a care to lower the nest a number of feet. The birds deserted. On examining the nest I found that one egg has been cracked. Whether this nest belonged to the redstarts of the grove and the female left her young in the care of the cock while she constructed a third nest, I cannot say. Exactly what became of the mother remained a mystery.

It was with grave concern that I watched the gayly dressed little songster for an entire day to see if he would take upon himself the duties of the mother-bird. Nothing could have been more touching than to note the faithfulness with which he performed all the work of two birds save brooding the young. The following morning the nest was empty, but I found the father-bird in a coppice feeding the little family. Evidently he had undertaken the entire care of his small flock.

One nest of redstarts that I studied from the egg stage was on the wing on the tenth day. As the nest was but five feet from the ground, within reach, and as I called there nearly every day, it is not surprising that the old bird tolled the young from the nest as soon as they were able to fly. At this age redstart nestlings preen vigorously and fly short distances.

The nest of the redstarts, when vacated, was immaculate, save for the quill and pin feather cases that filled the interstices.

The bird seems to raise a second brood, at least some years, as nearly all the dates at which I have discovered the bird nesting are later than those I find recorded. Redstarts were completing a nest June 13, 1908; a male and female were feeding four young five or six days old July 13, 1907; a bird was ready to incubate four fresh eggs the same day, and still another redstart was incubating four eggs July 5, 1910; these were not hatched until nine days later.

If the birds feed two broods during the summer, then they are nearly twice as useful as they have been generally supposed to be. The redstart is the most active of the active warblers, and the number of gnats, flies, caterpillars, moths, other insects and their eggs that these birds consume or feed to their nestlings in one day is incredible. While it does splendid work in the woods it frequently comes to the orchard and is not unknown to paly its quest for food in the village streets. While we admire the redstart for its beauty and its charming little songs, we respect the bird for his utility. In this case the proverbial "fine feathers" do cover fine little bird.

THE OLD TREE.

—Richard Nevin Pemberton.

THE HORSE'S PRAYER TO HIS MASTER.

To Thee, My master, I offer my prayer: Feed me, water and care for me, and when the day's work is done, provide me with shelter, a clean dry bed, and a stall wide enough for me to lie down in comfort.

Always be kind to me. Talk to me. Your voice often means as much to me as the reins. Pet me sometimes, that I may serve you the more gladly and learn to love you. Do not jerk the reins, and do not whip me when going up hill. Never strike, beat or kick me when I do not understand what you want, but give me a chance to understand you. Watch me, and if I fail to do your bidding, see if something is not wrong with my harness or feet.

Do not check me so that I cannot have the free use of my head. If you insist that I wear blinders so that I cannot see behind me, as it was intended I should, I pray you to be careful that the blinders stand well out from my eyes.

Do not overload me, or hitch me where water will drip on me. Keep me well shod. Examine my teeth when I do not eat. I may have an ulcerated tooth, and that, you know, is very painful. Do not fix my head in an unnatural position, or take away my best defense against flies and mosquitoes by cutting off my tail.

I cannot tell you when I am thirsty, so give me clean cool water often. I cannot tell you in words when I am sick, so watch me, and by signs you may know my condition. Give me all possible shelter from the hot sun, and put a blanket on me not when I am working but when I am standing in the cold. Never put a frosty bit in my mouth. First warm it by holding it a moment in your hands.

And finally, O My Master, when my useful strength is gone, do not turn me out to starve or freeze, or sell me to some human brute, to be slowly tortured and starved to death; but do Thou, My Master, take my life in the kindest way, and your God will reward you Here and Hereafter. You will not consider me irreverent if I ask this in the name of Him who was born in a stable. Amen.

"ONE, TWO, THREE!"

—From Poems of H. C. Bunner;
copyrighted 1884, 1892, 1899 by Chas. Scribner's Sons.

BIRD-STUDY IN OHIO PUBLIC SCHOOLS.

Dr. Eugene Swope.

Audubon Field Agent for Ohio, 4 W. Seventh St., Cincinnati, O.

The national movement for the study and protection of our wild birds is as well understood and supported by the teachers of Ohio as of any other State. The number of Junior Audubon Classes formed in the schools of Ohio last year was second only to New Jersey. That little State took the lead. Ohio ought to take the lead this year. With our Commissioner F. W. Miller giving his approval and encouragement, and our Supervisors of Agriculture recommending bird study as a necessary feature of elementary agriculture, Ohio ought to be able to report a large number of Bird Classes by the middle of May.

It is a rare thing to find a Superintendent or principal actually unfriendly toward bird study, but a very large percent hesitate to admit it into their schools because it is new and untried.

The claims of bird study upon Superintendents and principals is one that cannot much longer be overlooked. The National desire to know the wild birds and to save the remnant now left, is yearly becoming stronger. An ever-increasing number of homes are becoming active centers and parents are looking to the public schools for help, and children everywhere are eager for bird study.

There is no risk in introducing Junior Audubon Classes in a school. Some of our country's foremost educators have tried it with gratifying results, for they find that there is no better subject to develope the power of attention in children, there is no better subject to train children's memories, there is no better subject to awake originality of thought in young minds, and it is unquestionably the supreme subject for composition work. Any teacher who cares to give bird study a trial may correspond with me and receive gratis, the help now offered by the Ohio Audubon Society.

THE BOY WITH THE HOE.

—Selected.

THE BEECH TREE'S PETITION.

—Thomas Campbell.

THE CARDINAL.

By William Dutcher,

President of National Association of Audubon Societies. Educational Leaflet No. 18.

The Cardinal is one of the most brilliant of American birds; the name is derived from its color, which is a deep red, somewhat less vivid than scarlet. This color is supposed to be named from the vestments of a cardinal, an ecclesiastic of high rank in the Roman Church. The female bird, while not so conspicuous as her mate, is clad in a rich brown with just enough of red to light it up. They are indeed a striking pair, and wherever they are found soon become favorites. They are known as Cardinal Grosbeaks, Red-birds, Crested Red-birds, Virginia Nightingales, and lately James Lane Allen has made familiar Kentucky Cardinal. The illustration shows the Cardinal's most prominent features—a very large strong bill, a conspicuous crest, which can be erected or depressed at will, short rounded wings and a long tail. The length of the Cardinal is a little over eight inches from tip of bill to end of tail.

Once seen, the Cardinal can never be mistaken for any other bird, especially as its plumage virtually never changes but remains much the same at all seasons of the year. Cardinals are resident wherever they are found, and their center of abundance is in the southern portion of the United States. The northern limit of its range is approximately a line drawn from a point in the vicinity of New York City, westward to southeastern Nebraska; thence southward to Texas, where it is found in the greater part of the state. These lines are arbitrary, but are given in order that a teacher may show scholars in a general way where Cardinals can be found. Further, they give teachers and pupils who reside outside these limits an opportunity to extend the Cardinal's known range by proving that it lives in their locality.

There have been records of the Cardinal made as far north as Nova Scotia and Southern Ontario, but it is believed that these were escaped cage birds, the Cardinal, probably owing to its beauty of plumage and richness of song, having long been a favorite cage bird. Alexander Wilson, in American Ornithology (Vol. II, page 145), which was published in 1828, says, "This is one of our most common cage birds, and is very generally known, not only in North America, but even in Europe; numbers of them having been carried over both to France and England, in which last country they are usually called Virginia Nightingales."

Dr. Russ, the great German aviculturist, says, "Beloved in its home by both Americans and Germans, it is protected and caught only for the cage bird fancy. Had been bred in Holland a century and a half ago and later in England." It is true that until recently large numbers of Cardinals were caught or taken from the nest while young, for shipment to foreign countries by bird dealers. Owing to the efforts of the National Association, this traffic is a thing of the past. The Model Law, which is in force in all the States where the Cardinal is found, prohibits all traffic in these birds and forbids their being shipped from the State.

The Cardinal is too beautiful and valuable a bird to be confined within the narrow limits of a cage, where its splendid spirit is soon broken by its unavailing attempts to escape. Mrs. Olive Thorne Miller, in one of her charming pictures of bird life, says of a captive Cardinal, that, "He is a cynic, morose and crusty." Such a character cannot be attributed to the Cardinal when it is at liberty. Its wild, free song, its restless activity and its boldness are the antithesis of a depressed cage captive. Even when it receives the best care from its human jailer it is still a prisoner confined in a space so small that it never has an opportunity to stretch its wings in flight, nor can it ever bathe in the bright sunshine or view the blue skies above it. The whispering of the winds through the sylvan shades is lost to the captive forever. Is it strange that the nature of this wild free spirit changes?

The writer has seen many hundreds of these beautiful birds in cages ready to be shipped, each one doomed to a short existence, a prisoner and an exile. Fortunately, this condition is now changed; and, had the National Association accomplished no other good, the stopping of the cage-bird traffic would be a sufficient reason for its organization.

In the South, where the Cardinal is one of the most abundant birds, it is a special favorite, rivaling the Mockingbird in the affections of the people. It is commonly found in the towns as well as the rural districts. The female bird builds the nest, which is loosely constructed of leaves, bark, twigs, shreds of grape-vine, and is lined with dry grasses. The nest is placed in bushes or vines from eight to ten feet from the ground. Three or four white eggs, speckled with brown, are laid, and it is probable that in the South two broods are raised each season. The home life of Cardinals is a pattern of domestic felicity, so true are the sexes to each other. Even in winter they seem to be paired, for a male and a female are always seen together. However, during the season of incubation the tender solicitude of the male for his mate is best shown. In fact, his extreme anxiety that the home and its inmates should not be discovered excites him so much that he actually leads the visitor to the nest in the attempt to mislead.

The song of the male Cardinal is loud and clear, with a melodious ring, "What cheer! What cheer! What cheer!" winding up with a peculiar long-drawn out e-e-e. Contrary to the usual custom in bird families, the female Cardinal is an excellent singer, although her notes are in an entirely different key from those of her gifted mate, being lower and to some ears more sweet and musical.

Audubon's "American Ornithological Biography" is so rare at the present day, being found only in the largest libraries, and is consequently so inaccessible to the ordinary reader, that his description of the song of the Cardinal is quoted in full.

"Its song is at first loud and clear, resembling the finest sounds produced by the flageolet, and gradually descends into more marked and continued cadences, until it dies away in the air around. During the love season the song is emitted with increased emphasis by this proud musician, who, as if aware of his powers, swells his throat, spreads his rosy tail, droops his wings, and leans alternately to the right and left, as if on the eve of expiring with delight at the delicious sounds of his own voice. Again and again are those melodies repeated, the bird resting only at intervals to breathe. They may be heard from long before the sun gilds the eastern horizon, to the period when the blazing orb pours down its noonday floods of heat and light, driving the birds to the coverts to seek repose for a while. Nature again invigorated, the musician recommences his song, when, as if he had never strained his throat before, he makes the whole neighborhood resound, nor ceases until the shades of evening close around him. Day after day the song of the Red-bird beguiles the weariness of his mate as she assiduously warmed her eggs; and at times she also assists with the modesty of her gentler sex. Few individuals of our own race refuse their homage and admiration to the sweet songster. How pleasing is it, when, by a clouded sky, the woods are rendered so dark that, were it not for an occasional glimpse of clearer light falling between the trees, you might imagine night at hand, while you are yet far distant from your home, how pleasing to have your ear suddenly saluted by the well-known notes of this favorite bird, assuring you of peace around, and of the full hour that still remains for you to pursue your walk in security! How often have I enjoyed this pleasure and how often, in due humbleness of hope, do I trust that I may enjoy it again."

In addition to its great esthetic value of song and plumage, the Cardinal has another important character which should endear it to the husbandman. Its food is various, consisting of wild fruits such as grapes, berries, mulberries, cedar berries, seeds of grasses and of many species of weeds, also large numbers of adult beetles, grasshoppers, crickets, flies, ants and their larvae; it is especially fond of rose-bugs. The Cardinal is from every point of view a bird of great interest and value, and any person who makes its intimate acquaintance will form a life-long friendship.

—Reprinted from Bird-lore.

THE HERMIT THRUSH.

—Arvia Mackaye, 9 years old.

MY LITTLE BO-PEEP.

Marion, Ohio.

—Isabella Virginia Freeland.

THE OAK TREE.

—Colorado Arbor and Bird Day.

THE POPLAR FIELD.

—Cowper.

IN THE ORCHARD.

Adelphi, Ohio.

—Mary Nowlan Wittwer.

"THANK YOU" AND "AMEN".