_Adult Female._--Above grayish blue, chestnut of back faintly indicated, throat grayish blue, breast rusty, paler than in male, belly grayish.

_Range._--Pacific coast region from northern Lower California north to British Columbia, east to Nevada.

2a. CHESTNUT-BACKED BLUEBIRD (SIALIA MEXICANA ANABELAE).

Similar to the Western Bluebird, but foreback wholly chestnut.

_Range._--Rocky Mountain region from Mexico north to Wyoming.

2b. SAN PEDRO BLUEBIRD (SIALIA MEXICANA ANABELAE).

Similar to the Western Bluebird, but back with less chestnut.

_Range._--San Pedro Martir mountains, Lower California.

3. MOUNTAIN BLUEBIRD (SIALIA ARCTICA).

_Adult male._--Almost wholly blue, above beautiful cerulean, below paler, belly whitish. Adult female.--Above brownish gray, upper tail coverts, wings and tail bluish below pale fawn, belly whitish.

_Range._--Western United States from Rocky Mountains to Sierras, and from New Mexico north to the Great Slave Lake region.

TO CELIA.

Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss in the cup And I'll not look for wine.

The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honoring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be; But thou thereon didst only breathe And sen'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself but thee!

--_Ben Johnson._

[Ill.u.s.tration: A TREE THAT STANDS IN THE OPEN COUNTRY HAS A HARD STRUGGLE FOR EXISTENCE.]

DON'T FORGET THE TREE.

(A POEM FOR ARBOR DAY.)

How beauteous is the lordly tree That scatters cooling shade!

The landscape, O how fair and free By loving Nature made; The birds that build in leafy bough Hail each returning spring, And in the emerald forests now They make the Welkin ring.

The tree we plant in years becomes A monarch old and gray, And thousands from unbuilded homes Will bless our Arbor Day; We plant not for the present time, But for the days in store.

And those who come from distant clime Will bless us o'er and o'er.

Hail Arbor Day! With busy hands With cheerful hearts and free We come in Nature; loving hands To plant the bush or tree; Unto the wide extending plain, Or to the sun scorched way We bring the cooling shade again With joy this Arbor Day.

DON'T FORGET THE TREE.

Where halts the pilgrim for an hour Let some tree rear its head, Our work can greet him with a flower, Or luscious fruit instead; Plant for the dawning years a tree, 'Twill not be labor lost; You'll live to bless the day and see How little was the cost.

Plant trees upon the barren hill And in the village street, And shade the little sunny rill Whose song is rich and sweet; Where there's a will there is a way.

So let the children come And plant a tree this Arbor Day-- A tree that stands for Home.

Methinks the rose will fairer bloom Upon the bush we set, And softer be its perfume Above its coronet; Let every child in Freedom's land Hail Arbor Day with glee, And plant with every busy hand A shrub, a bush or tree.

G.o.d made the many trees for shade, So plant one on this day, In field, in town, in glen and glade They yield a gentle sway; In troops let all the children come With music, song and cheer; For Arbor Day is near to Home, And Home is always dear.

Go plant a tree where none is found, Make bright some treeless spot, And as the ceaseless years go round You will not be forgot; From hill to hill, from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e, Let hands forget their play, And men will bless forevermore Our sacred Arbor Day.

--_T. C. Harbaugh._

[Ill.u.s.tration: ALONG THE MAUMEE.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE THOUGHTLESS LUMBER-MAN LEAVES AN UNCANNY WAKE.]

TRAILING ARBUTUS.

Ere the latest snow of Springtime Leaves the shelter of the woodlands; While it still in every hollow Waits with a wavering indecision, Loath to vanish at the mandate Of the swiftly conquering sunshine-- Then the Spirit of the Springtime Comes with gentle exorcism.

'Tis the arbutus, frail beauty, Pale with fright, yet blushing rosy At the simple joy of living, And before her modest presence Harsh winds calm their fiercest bl.u.s.ter, And the last resisting armies Of the Snow-king quickly vanish.

Then she sends her sweetest fragrance Upward, like a breath of incense, To the sun, who cheers and thanks her With his warmest, grateful kisses.

--_Mary Nowlan Wittwer, Adelphi, Ohio._

[Ill.u.s.tration: MANY TIMES "THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN."]