BABY’S PINK THUMBS.

    The snow had quite covered the ground,
      The wind whistled fiercely and chill,
    When a poor little storm-beaten bird
      Flew down on the broad window-sill.

    Within, there was comfort and wealth;
      Gay pictures half covered the wall;
    The children were happy at play;
      And the fire shone bright over all.

    Without, there was famine and frost;
      Not a morsel of fruit or of grain;
    And the bird gave a piteous chirp,
      And tapped with his beak at the pane.

    Then baby climbed up on a chair,
      Forgetting his trumpets and drums: 
    He doubled his two little fists,
      And pointed with both his pink thumbs.

    “See, see!” and he laughed with delight,
      “Pretty bird, pretty bird:  here he comes!”
    When the bird, with a bob of his head,
      Made a peck at the baby’s pink thumbs.

    Then the children called out with great glee,
      “He thinks they are cherries, or plums,
    Or pieces of apple; and so
      He tries to eat baby’s pink thumbs.”

    “Poor birdie!” said mamma:  “we know
      That God for his creatures will care;
    But he gives to his thoughtfuller ones
      The pleasure of doing their share.

    “We softly will open the sash,
      And scatter a handful of crumbs;
    And, when birdie wants breakfast again,
      He needn’t peck baby’s pink thumbs.

    “He may come day by day, if he will,
      To a feast on the broad window-ledge,
    And fly, when he’s eaten his fill,
      To his home in the evergreen hedge.”

OLIVE A. WADSWORTH.

ABOUT FLAX, BARLEY, AND RYE.

Arthur had been looking at some pictures in a book; but he did not quite understand what they were:  so he called on Uncle Oscar to explain.

Uncle Oscar took him on his knee, and said, “This, Arthur, is a picture of the flax-plant, a very useful plant indeed; for from it we make linen.  Your apron is linen:  so are the collar and wristbands on my shirt.

“The flax-plant bears delicate blue flowers, which look very pretty when in bloom.  Flax is raised very largely in Kentucky, and other States in the Union.  Do you know what part of the plant is the stalk?  I will point it out to you in the picture.

[Illustration:  FLAX.]

“Well, from this stalk the thread, or fibres, are got, out of which linen cloth is made.  The flax is pulled a little before the seeds are ripe:  it is stripped, and the stalks are soaked in water.  The flax is then dried, and broken and beaten till the threads, or fibres, of the bark are fit for spinning.  From the seeds, linseed-oil is made.

“Is it not strange, Arthur, that out of the stalk of this little plant should be made the nice white linen of your apron and my handkerchief?”