eard only when other creatures are hiding themselves
from the approaching storm."

It was a sad punishment for the Woodpecker, but she certainly deserved
it. Ever since that time, whenever we hear a little tap-tapping in the
tree city, we know that it is the poor Woodpecker digging at the dusty
wood, as the Lord said she should do. And when we spy her, a dusty
little body with black stockings, clinging upright to the tree trunk, we
see that she is creeping, climbing, looking up eagerly toward the sky,
longing for the rain to fall into her thirsty beak. She is always hoping
for the storm to come, and plaintively pipes, "_Plui-plui!_ Rain, O
Rain!" until the drops begin to patter on the leaves.

MOTHER MAGPIE'S KINDERGARTEN

Did you ever notice how different are the nests which the birds build in
springtime, in tree or bush or sandy bank or hidden in the grass? Some
are wonderfully wrought, pretty little homes for birdikins. But others
are clumsy, and carelessly fastened to the bough, most unsafe cradles
for the feathered baby on the treetop. Sometimes after a heavy wind you
find on the ground under the nest poor little broken eggs which rolled
out and lost their chance of turning into birds with safe, safe wings of
their own. Now such sad things as this happen because in their youth the
lazy father and mother birds did not learn their lesson when Mother
Magpie had her class in nest-making. The clumsiest nest of all is that
which the Wood-Pigeon tries to build. Indeed, it is not a nest at all,
only the beginning of one. And there is an old story about this, which I
shall tell you.

In the early springtime of the world, when birds were first made, none
of them--except Mother Magpie--knew how to build a nest. In that lovely
garden where they lived the birds went fluttering about trying their new
wings, so interested in this wonderful game of flying that they forgot
all about preparing a home for the baby birds who were to come. When the
time came to lay their eggs the parents knew not what to do. There was
no place safe from the four-legged creatures who cannot fly, and they
began to twitter helplessly: "Oh, how I wish I had a nice warm nest for
my eggs!" "Oh, what shall we do for a home?" "Dear me! I don't know
anything about housekeeping." And the poor silly things ruffled up their
feathers and looked miserable as only a little bird can look when it is
unhappy.

All except Mother Magpie! She was not the best-