6. TO SLEEP

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by,

One after one; the sound of rain, and bees
Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds, and seas,
Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky;
I've thought of all by turns, and yet do lie
Sleepless; and soon the small birds' melodies
Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees;
And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry.

Even thus last night, and two nights more I lay,
And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth;
So do not let me wear to-night away:

Without Thee what is all the morning's wealth?
Come, blessed barrier between day and day
Dear mother of fresh thought and joyous health!

CLASS ACTIVITIES

1. What lines make the poem appropriate for "Saving and Conserving"? 2. Why does it seem right to call sleep "the mother of fresh thought and joyous health"?

3. Volunteer work:

Hours a Day.

Read Arnold Bennett's How to Live on Twenty-four
Report to the class what he says about sleep.

CLASS-LIBRARY READINGS

SAVING HEALTH AND STRENGTH

I. "The Valley," C. Harris, in The Promise of Country Life, 97-105. 2. "The Woman Physician's Opportunity," M. Tracy, in Opportunities of To-day, 239-247.

3. "Nursing," L. M. Powell, ibid., 255-258.

4. "The Hospital Worker," H. E. Gibson, ibid., 259–262.

5. "France's Fighting Woman Doctor," D. Canfield, in Joy in Work, 32-65.

6. "Fresh Air and Healthy Lives," Book of Knowledge, 6:1787-1789.

7. "How and When to Eat," ibid., 10: 3045-3048.

8. "The Wonderful River of Air," ibid., 20:6251-6255.

9. "The Man Who Vanquished the Mosquito," Compton's Pictured Encyclopedia, 4:1490-1491.

Volunteer readings. - 1. "Bird Hunting with Field Glass and Camera," A. A. Allen, in The Outlook, 125:257-260. 2. "Federal Protection of Migratory Birds," G. Gladden, in Outing, 62:345-349. 3. "Shall We Feed the Birds?" in Literary Digest, 52:1214-1217. 4. "A City Bat Roost," ibid., 50:873. 5. "A New Method of Bird Study," ibid., 48:102103. 6. "Our Greatest Travelers," W. W. Cooke, in National Geographic Magazine, 22:346-365. 7. "The Fight for Bird Protection," T. G. Pearson, in World's Work, 45: 206-214. 8. "Birds and Saving," R. H. Moulton, in St. Nicholas, 40:651. 9. F. M. Chapman, Our Winter Birds; and Travels of Birds. 10. "Wild Life in the National Forest," N. B. Greeley, in The Outlook, 137:148-151.

2. OUR VANISHING BIRDS

RUDOLF C. CRONAU

Does the author give evidence to prove that the poem "Stupidity Street" is based on facts?

Only half a century ago America offered to the hunter greater attractions than any other country in the world. The wild turkey, one of the noblest of the feathered game, clucked and gobbled in all beech and chestnut forests of the East. The ruffed grouse was an inhabitant of every hillside thicket. "Bob White's" cheerful cry rang in all rural districts; the snipe made the marshes merry in the spring with its shrill "skeap"; the ponds, lakes, and rivers were alive with countless geese, swans, and ducks; the sky was sometimes darkened by clouds of wild pigeons.

Those golden days of the sportsman have gone. The great flocks of migratory fowl are no longer seen, and whole districts once filled with game birds are silent and dead, and present not a single feather to the hunter. When we ask for the cause that led up to the present scarcity of game birds, we must answer again: "Waste! Shameless waste!"

In the days of plenty and abundance men forgot that a time of need might come. Protection and game laws were sneered at by the people as an infringement of their rights. The entire year was one "open season" from the first of January to the last of December, and the amount of shooting, snaring, and trapping done by young and old was only limited by their desires.

The results of such reckless waste became apparent in the course of time. First the bird lovers and the sportsmen became alarmed by the decided decrease of bird life in the United States. Once plentiful birds had disappeared entirely or greatly diminished in number. Some species were found to be almost gone. To determine how far destruction had gone, as well as the chief causes of it, William T. Hornaday, of the New York Zoological Park, in the year 1900 made an attempt to take a census of our feathered friends. To obtain information he sent inquiries to persons in all parts of the country who were competent to answer.

The fact that the inquiry was intended as a step for saving the birds awakened keen interest and brought forth reports from nearly 200 cbservers, representing 37 States and Territories. Fully 90 per cent of the reports had been prepared evidently with conscientious thought and care. Many were very full and particulary valuable by reason of their wealth of detail. The closeness with which the estimates of different observers in a given State or region agreed with one another was quite surprising, and could be justly regarded as evidence of their scientific value. Almost everywhere the reports revealed a lamentable falling off in bird life, the decrease reaching in many States over 50, and in some States over 70 per cent. Florida stood at the head of the list, with a loss of 77 per cent.

The reports further disclosed the fact that the boys of America are the chief destroyers of our small non-edible birds. Many boys shoot the birds, a great many devote their energies to gathering eggs, and some do both. They have many able assistants, however. Wherever there are birds that are considered edible, or classed as "game," the sportsman, the idler, the farmer, and the market-hunter are found, all eager to "kill something" and to make "a good bag"; not to forget the "game hog," who finds delight in having himself photographed surrounded by the fruits of "a day's sport," and regards that photograph as imperfect unless he has 100 dead ducks, grouse, or geese around him.

Whatever species of bird life we may consider, the ravages done by man are noticeable at once. The wild turkey, monarch of all feathered game in North America, has become almost extinct. This species is now confined to a few spots in southern Illinois and Indiana, and to some forests of the Alleghanies, but is surely destined to dwindle away and become extinct. The same is true with the swan, the woodduck, the canvasback duck, the ivorybilled woodpecker, the Carolina paroquet, and a number of other birds.

The prairie chickens, with which two generations ago the prairies of Ohio, Indiana, Michigan, and Illinois were fairly alive, are now to be found only in the far Western States. And even in the West their range is rapidly contracting, notwithstanding

the fact that the prairie chickens are under the protection of the law and the shooting season is limited to three months.

The most terrible case of wasteful extermination of animal life by men is that of the passenger pigeon. As the history of this bird illustrates best the unpardonable waste of animal life, it may be told here somewhat in detail.

The great naturalist, John James Audubon, writes in his Ornithological Biography: "In the autumn of 1813 I left my house at Henderson, on my way to Louisville. In passing over the Barrens, I observed the pigeons flying in greater numbers than I thought I had ever seen before. Feeling an inclination to count the flocks that might pass within the reach of my eye in one hour, I dismounted, and began to mark with my pencil, making a dot for every flock that passed. In a short time, finding the task impracticable, as the birds poured in in countless multitudes, I rose, and counting the dots then put down, found that I had made one hundred and sixty-three in twenty-one minutes. The air was literally filled with pigeons; the light of noonday was obscured as by an eclipse, and the continued buzz of wings had a tendency to lull my senses to repose. While waiting for dinner I saw immense legions still going by.

"I cannot describe to you the extreme beauty of their movements when a hawk chanced to press upon the rear of the flock. At once, like a torrent, and with a noise like thunder, they rushed into a compact mass, pressing upon each other towards the center. In these almost solid masses, they darted forward in curving lines, descended and swept close over the earth, mounted perpendicularly so as to resemble a vast column, and, when high, wheeled and twisted within their continued lines, which then resembled the coils of a gigantic serpent. Before sunset I reached Louisville, distant fifty-five miles. The pigeons were still passing in undiminished numbers, and continued to do so for three days in succession.

"It may not, perhaps, be out of place to attempt an estimate of the number of pigeons contained in one of these mighty flocks. Take a column of one mile in breadth, which is far below the average size; suppose it passing over us without interruption for three hours, at the rate of one mile in a minute. This will give