'Just a festoon or two;' and festoons almost hid the poor Tree from view.

Now the Vine crept up, sans ceremonie, put out its great broad leaves, and disposed its clusters to the sun and in the shade alamode, and thought nothing of the means whereby it had gotten "up in tho world." Meanwhile, its victim struggled on a year or two; paid a feeble tribute to Flora, and a feebler one to Pomona-if that's her name-while the Vine heaped the Summer on its half-leafless branches, and rolled up like a great green billow into the sun. Not content with this, the unprincipled thing paid its addresses to a Peach Tree, and more than half ruined it; but the Tree bore it all patiently, and never said a word, and never "peached." And so the Vine keeps "going on," to the great "taking on" of all orderly Apple and Peach Trees, and the great scandal of the neighborhood.

ANOTHER OF THEM.

A GENTLEMAN in a suit of sober brown pays daily devoirs and devours to a Cherry Tree near the house Taking one or two of the ripened rubies, dainty fellow that he is, he sits and amuses himself by the hour, echoing the various notes that are uttered around

him. He is a decided Robin, a querulous Cat-bird, a veritable Thrush, and a positive Goldfinch, by turns, and sometimes, as if a hand-organ should go crazy, and play all its tunes at once, he gives them all together. The northern MOCKING BIRD is "C a character," though he has none of his own, and never was known to utter an original idea upon music in his life. He has many relatives who never wear feathers except in hats and bonnets, and whose chief merit is that of a blank wall, saying nothing of themselves, but giving back imperfectly, the utterances of others.

This worthy in October brown is not a Bachelor, as one might surmise by his freedom from care, and light merry air, but a very respectable Benedict. His family, three members—one died in shell-dom-reside in a little Oak tree across the road, and are nearly ready to leave the old homestead, and “do for themselves." What a medley of Sparrows and Quails, of Blue Jay and Robin, lies within the circumference of that little nest; and they are all "Our Folks.”

"AND SO ON."

EVERY evening, a little after sunset, a WIPPOORWILL takes up his position and his trisyllabic song on a fallen tree, not far from the house. A queer bird.

careless in domestic matters-for it builds no nest of any account-it sits and sings through the deepening twilight on into the moonlight; and if you creep sufficiently near, you will see that it positively beats time with its little foot upon the log, and hear, between the strains, a click like that of a clock just as it strikes the hour.

A rare Music Box is the Whippoorwill, manufactured, tuned, and wound by the same fingers that keyed the spheres to their sublime harmonies.

66 LITTLE JEMMY."

AND there's "JEMMY," a little top-knotted, greencoated Canary of some five months, that sits in his cage, crumbles his cracker, notches his fresh lettuce, cracks his Canary seed, makes his toilet, and ogles the Yellow Birds that ride around his prison on the swells of the air.

A while ago, Jemmy was slightly depressed, and "for cause," as will be seen. Relying too much on the twist in the conjugal tie, Lucy-she's one of “Our Folks," but the Census Takers have her “ description' -suffered Jemmy's wife, NELLY, to fly out to a Lilac Tree in front of the house, supposing, of course, she would fly back on wings of love; but the swaying

boughs, the free air, and, I sadly fear, the blandishments of some unprincipled Lothario of a Goldfinch, were too much for poor Nelly's virtue, and she never returned to her allegiance; so Jemmy has kept Bachelor's Hall ever since.

"Nelly was a lady;" at least, so we all thought; but, the other day, she made her appearance in a Peach Tree, right in sight of her lord and masterdecidedly the worst thing I know of her-accompanied by a suspicious-looking fellow in buff waistcoat and inexpressibles." We didn't-"Our Folks"much approve of the twitterings and chirpings between them; but Jemmy is a good deal of a philosopher; so he turned about upon his perch as nonchalant as a Regent Street fashionable. There was a little swelling in his throat. Was it a rising sigh? Nothing of the sort; for he warbled a ditty—not of the strongest, we confess, but then musical, resigned, Jemmy-like-the burden of which was, as nearly as I could make it out, something like this: "Not a— whistle-for Nelly, Nell, Nelly, give I; not a-warblc-a twitter—a quaver-care I. This crotchetof Nelly's a-minim-to me!" The very day that Nelly deserted Jemmy's perch and pickings, a driving storm swept over the country, and there was a sound

of great lamentation for Nelly; but, alas! she was left to a worse fate. There is no telling what Coquettes, or Canaries, or any of us may come to, if left to ourselves.

P.-AN EVERLASTING PEA.

AN EVER-LAST-ING PEA-the last of "Our Folks" to-day-a sweet thing to look at, but with no more breath than an Oyster, has been growing neglected beside the door for a long time. Several impudent Burdocks and saucy Pigweeds had grown over it and around it; and there it was without a frame, a staff, or even a thread to help itself with, and climb out of the way, up into the air, and be beautiful, and be admired.

There it was, struggling alone, and running all over the ground, and getting no where, when, one day, a bolder branch, that had gone out some where for succor, discovered the Lightning Conductor. There was a way up and out, indeed; and why shouldn't a PEA as well as a PEOPLE run on a Rail? And here was an aërial Railway, ready and in "running order," for the creeper and climber. So it encircled the cold iron, and swung itself up; and whither it might have gone, and what it might have done, is more than