Ww. V.

window the martins have a nest plastered
against the wall, and their chattering awakens
her in the first freshness of the new morning.
She watches the black shadows of the birds
fluttering on the sunny blind, as, first one
and then another, they race up to the nest,
and vibrate in the air a moment, before dart-
ing into it. When her interest has begun to
flag, she steals in to me in her nightdress,
and tugs gently at my beard till I waken and
sit up. Unhappily her mother wakens too.
“What, more birthdays!’ she exclaims in a
tone of stern disapproval; whereat W. V.
and I laugh, for evasion of domestic law is
the sweet marjoram of our salad. But it zs
possible to coax even a Draconian parent into
assent, and oh!

Flower of the may,
If mamsie will not say her nay,
W. won’t care what any one may say!

We first make a tour of the garden, and it
is delightful to observe W. V. prying about
with happy, eager eyes, to detect whether
nature has been making any new thing during
the dim, starry hours when people are too

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