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THE TURTLE-DOVE'S NEST.

THE TURTLE DOVE'S NEST.

ERY high in the pine tree
The little turtle-dove
Made a pretty little nursery,
To please her little love.
She was gentle, she was soft,
And her large dark eye
Often turnéd to her mate,
Who was sitting close by.

"Coo," said the turtle-dove;

"Coo," said she.

"Oh, I love thee," said the turtle-dove;

"And I love thee."

In the long shady branches

Of the dark pine tree,

How happy were the doves

In their little nursery!

The young turtle-doves

Never quarrelled in the nest,

For they dearly loved each other,

Though they loved their mother best;

Old Mother Duck has hatched a brood
Of ducklings, small and callow:
Their little wings are short, their down
Is mottled gray and yellow.

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DAME DUCK'S FIRST LECTURE.

There is a quiet little stream,

That runs into the moat,

Where tall green sedges spread their leaves,
And water-lilies float.

Close by the margin of the brook
The old duck made her nest

Of straw, and leaves, and withered grass,
And down from her own breast.

And there she sat for four long weeks,
In rainy days and fine,

Until the ducklings all came out

Four, five, six, seven, eight, nine!

One peeped out from beneath her wing,
One scrambled on her back;

"That's very rude," said old Dame Duck.

"Get off! quack, quack, quack, quack!"

""Tis close," said Dame Duck, shoving out
The egg-shells with her bill;
"Besides, it never suits young ducks
To keep them sitting still."

So, rising from her nest, she said,

DAME DUCK'S FIRST LECTURE.

"Yes," said the little ones, and then She went on to explain :

"A well-bred duck turns in its toes
As I do try again."

"Yes," said the ducklings, waddling on;
"That's better," said their mother;
"But well-bred ducks walk in a row,
Straight- one behind another."

"Yes," said the little ducks again,
All waddling in a row;

"Now to the pond," said old Dame Duck Splash, splash! and in they go.

"Let me swim first," said old Dame Duck,
"To this side, now to that;

There, snap at those great brown-winged flies,
They make young ducklings fat.

"Now when you reach the poultry-yard,

The hen-wife, Molly Head,

Will feed you, with the other fowls,
On bran and mashed-up bread;

"The hens will peck and fight, but mind,
I hope that all of you

Will gobble up the food as fast

As well-bred ducks should do.

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