its nest. The nest
is made in clay, and is long, like a tube. It is closed by a
trap-door, and is a skillful piece of workmanship.

A. R. J.

* * * * *

BRANDON, WISCONSIN.

My father and brother commenced seeding the 14th of April, as it
had been very warm for several days. The morning of April 16 the
ground was covered with snow, and it continued snowing hard all
day.

FLORENCE.

* * * * *

FORT WAYNE, INDIANA.

The other night I took my round in the chicken coop to see that
all the chickens were in. Three little chicks, four weeks old,
deserted by their mother, were just coming in. They jumped on the
first roosting lath, and then on the second, and began to walk
toward the rooster. One little chap jumped on his back, and the
two others crept under his wings. What surprised me most was that
the rooster took it very kindly, and has allowed the chicks to
continue their tricks every night.

WALTER C.

* * * * *

ROCHESTER, NEW YORK.

I have a little kitty that we took with us to the beach last
summer. When we went out rowing, she used to come with us in the
boat, and if she didn't like it, she would jump into the water and
swim ashore. When we walked up the beach for shells, she would
always follow us, even if we went two or three miles. I am eleven
years old, and my name is

WINIFRED B.

* * * * *

SALINA, KANSAS.

We have had such hard winds in Kansas this spring that the air
would be so filled with thick clouds of dust and sand that we
could not see a square away for hours at a time, and the air
seemed charged with electricity. They were called electric storms,
and the telegraph operators could hardly use their batteries at
all. Can any one tell me what caused the electricity?

CHARLEY H. G.

* * * * *

DALLAS, PENNSYLVANIA.

I am a lame boy, and can not go to school. I have been taking
music lessons, and I can play on the piano and the organ. Papa and
mamma are going to send me to the Conservatory of Music. I am
eleven years old.

WILLIE H. H.

* * * * *

BELLE PLAINE, IOWA.

We have just found some buttercups for the firs