One day her mother said to her, "Come little Red-Cap, here is a piece of cake and a bottle of wine; take them to your grandmother, she is ill and weak, and they will do her good. Set out before it gets hot, and when you are going, walk nicely and quietly and do not run off the path, or you may fall and break the bottle, and then your grandmother will get nothing; and when you go into her room, don't forget to say, 'Good-morning,' and don't peep into every corner before you do it."

"I will take great care," said little Red-Cap to her mother, and gave her hand on it.

The grandmother lived out in the wood, half a league from the village, and just as little Red-Cap entered the wood, a wolf met her. Red-Cap did not know what a wicked creature he was, and was not at all afraid of him.

"Good-day, little Red-Cap," said he.

"Thank you kindly, wolf."

"Whither away so early, Little Red-Cap?"

"To my grandmother's."

"What have you in your basket?"

"Cake and wine; yesterday was baking-day, so poor sick grandmother is to have something good, to make her stronger."

"Where does your grandmother live, Little Red-Cap?"

"A good quarter of a league farther on in the wood; the house stands under the three large oak-trees, the nut trees are just below; you surely must know it," replied Little Red-Cap.

The wolf thought to himself, "What a tender young creature? What a nice plump mouthful; she will be better to eat than the old woman. I must act craftily, so as to catch both." So walking for a short time by the side of Little Red-Cap, he said, "See, Little Red-Cap, how pretty the flowers are about here—why do you not look round? I believe too, you do not hear how sweetly the birds are singing, you walk gravely along as if you were going to school, while every thing else out here in the wood is merry."

Little Red-Cap raised her eyes, and when she saw the sunbeams dancing here and there through the trees, and pretty flowers growing everywhere, she thought, "Suppose I take grandmother a fresh nosegay, that would please her too. It is so early in the day, that I shall still get there in good time; and so she ran from the path into the wood to look for flowers. And whenever site had picked one, she fancied that she saw a still prettier one farther on, and ran after it, and so got deeper and deeper into the wood.

Meanwhile the wolf ran straight to the grandmother's house, and knocked at the door.

"Who is there?"

"Little Red-Cap," replied the wolf. "She is, bringing cake and wine; open the door."

"Lift the latch and walk in," called the grandmother, "I am too weak, and cannot get up."

The wolf lifted the latch, the door flew open, and without saying a word, he went straight to the grandmother's bed, and devoured har. Then he put on her clothes, dressed himself in her cap, laid himself in bed, and drew the curtains.

Little Red-Cap, however, had been running about picking flowers, and when she had gathered so many that she could carry no more, she remembered her grandmother, and set out on her way to her.

She was surprised to find the cottage door standing open, and when she went into the room, she had such a strange feeling that she said to herself, "Oh dear! how uneasy I feel to-day, and at other times I like being with grandmother so much." She called out "Good-morning," but received no answer; so she went to the bed and drew back the curtains. There lay her grandmother with her cap pulled over her face, and looking very strange.

"Oh! grandmother," She said, "what big ears you have!"

"The better to hear you with my child," was the reply.

"But grandmother, what big eyes you have ! " she said.

"The better to see you with, any dear."

"But, grandmother, what large hands you have!"

"The better to hug you with."

"Oh ! but, grandmother, what a terrible big mouth you have!"

"The better to eat you with!"

And scarcely had the wolf said this, than with one bound, he was out of bed and swallowed up Red-Cap.

When the wolf had appeased his appetite, he lay down again in bed, fell asleep and began to snore very loud.

The huntsman was just passing the house, and thought to himself, "How the old woman is snoring; I must just see if she wants anything." So he went into the room, and when he came to the bed, he saw that the wolf was lying on it. "Do I find thee here, thou old sinner!" said he. "I have long sought thee!" Then just as he was going to fire at him, it occurred to him that the wolf might have devoured the grandmother, and that she still might be saved, so he did not fire but took a pair of scissors, and began to cut open the stomach of the sleeping wolf. When he had made two snips, he saw the Little Red-Cap shining, and then he made two snips more, and the little girl sprang out crying, "Ah, how frightened I have been! How dark it was inside the wolf;" and after that the aged grandmother came out also, but scarcely able to breathe.

Then all three were delighted. The huntsman drew off the wolf's skin and went home with it; the grandmother ate the cake, and drank the wine which Red-Cap had brought, and revived, but Red-Cap thought to her self, "As long as I live, I will never by myself leave the path, to run into the wood, when my mother has forbidden me to do so."

I am best, said summer; I bring the hot sun that ripens strawberries and cherries. I bring the ripe wheat and corn, and all around you can hear the merry song of the reapers.

I bring the purple grapes cried autumn, and red apples and juicy pears. I bring forests of gold and crimson, and best of all I bring Thanksgiving Day. Then all three cried out, what can you say for your self, Oh cold and dreary winter? The grass is gone, the flowers have died, the birds have flown, the winds are cold and even the sky is dark.

Then said old winter, I have no green dress, but I have a soft white dress which little children love to see. I bring no flowers, but I bring icicles which. shine like diamonds. I freeze the pond so little children can slide and skate. I bring the bright warm fires, round which kind mothers sit, and tell stories to their dear little children.

But best of all I bring Christmas and Santa Claus, and the Christmas tree. Then all the little children, who were listening, clapped their hands, and said, we love spring and summer and autumn, but we love old winter best of all.

"But the lily," said the father, "is dead; the tree has lost her fruit; the bees are killed, and the corn-fields are laid waste. Your play is too rough. Hereafter you will stay in doors in the summer, and go out only in the winter, when gardens, orchards and fields are bare, or covered with snow." And now we may hear him some winter night, howling through the leafless trees, or in the daytime we may see him tossing the white snow against the window-panes or into drifts by the roadside.

"How I should like to have a little spinning-wheel!" said Mary; "then I could help you, mother."

"If I might make a wish," said Paul, "I would not wish for a spinning-wheel, but a sled with steel runners; then I could ride on the snow and ice. I would give you a ride, dear sister, and be careful not to upset you."

"Now," said the mother, "be contented for awhile; perhaps Santa Claus will bring you what you have wished for; you have been good, and Santa Claus loves good children. So that he may not forget your wishes, I'll write him a letter."

She seated herself at her writing-desk, and wrote the following: "Dear Santa Claus! I have two dear little children, who have been good during the whole year; their names are Paul and Mary. Both wish to ask a favor of you. Paul would like to have a sled with steel runners, Mary a little spinning-wheel. Will you not bring them? We sincerely beg you may grant these wishes, and the children promise always to be good and kind. Do not forget the wishes of mother, Paul and Mary."

They folded the letter, sealed it, and Paul's little pigeon was to be the letter-carrier. Mother tied a blue ribbon around the letter, and fastened it to the pigeon's neck. The pigeon flew out of the window and returned without the letter. The children counted the days till Christmas, and great was their joy when mother rang a little bell to tell them that Santa Claus had been there. They ran into the parlor, and there on the table stood a large Christmas tree, with many beautiful lights, and under it was a lovely red sled, with steel runners, for Paul, and a little spinning-wheel for Mary. Santa Claus had not only granted their wishes, but had also brought a beautiful wax doll for Mary, and a box of blocks for Paul. The children were very happy. Mary showed the spinning-wheel to her doll, and told her all about the letter to Santa Claus. Just then the pigeon flew into the room with another letter; this one was from Santa Claus, and this is what it said: "Santa Claus hears the wishes of good children, and loves to grant them." Paul and Mary continued to be good children, and took care of the letter that Santa Claus wrote them.

At the end of a year he had shot up a good deal, and after another year he was another long bit taller. "Oh, were I but such a high tree as the others are!" sighed he. "Then I should be able to spread out my branches, and the birds would build their nests in them." Neither the sunbeams, nor the birds, nor the beautiful clouds which sailed above him, gave the little tree any pleasure.

In the autumn, the wood-cutter came and felled some of the largest trees. The little Pine then trembled at the sight; the big trees fell to the earth with a noise, the branches were lopped off, and then they were laid into carts, and the horses dragged them out of the wood. The Pine wondered what would become of them, and in spring when the swallows and storks returned, he asked them if they could tell him.

The swallows did not know anything about, it; but a, wise stork nodded his head, and said, "Yes, I think I know, I met many ships as I was flying hither from Egypt, and noticed that the magnificent masts were made of the tall trees."

"Oh, I wish I was old enough to go across the sea! How does the sea look? What is it like?"

"It would take too long to explain," said the stork, and with these words off he went.

When Christmas came, young trees were cut down, laid in the carts, and the horses drew them out of the woods.

"Where are they going to?" asked the Pine. "Why do they retain all their branches?"

"We know! we know!" chirped the sparrows, "we peeped in at the windows in the town below! we saw them planted in the middle of a warm room and ornamented with the most splendid things—with gilded apples, with toys, with gingerbread, and many hundred lights!"

"And then?" asked the Pine tree, trembling in every bough, "What happened then?"

"We did not see anything more; it was very beautiful."

"Were Christmas but come! I am very tall and my branches spread like the trees that were carried off last year! Oh, were I in the warm room with all the splendor!"

The tree grew and grew, and was green both winter and summer. People that saw him said, "What a fine tree!" When Christmas came he was one of the first that was cut down. The axe struck deep; the tree fell to the earth with a sigh. Although he had wished to go, he could not think of happiness, for he was sad to leave his home and all his dear old comrades. He would never again see the little bushes and flowers, and perhaps not even the dear little birds. The departure was not at all agreeable.

He heard a man say, "That one is splendid! carry that Pine tree into the large drawing room." Oh, how the tree quivered! What was to happen? He was stuck upright into a cask that was filled with sand. Then the servants, as well as the young ladies, decorated it. On one branch they hung little chains made of colored paper; among the other branches gilded apples and walnuts were suspended, and little blue and white tapers were placed among the leaves. Dolls were seen among the foliage, and at the very top, a large star of gold was fixed. It was really splendid—beyond description.

"This evening!" said they all, "how it will shine this evening."

"Oh, if evening were but come!" thought the tree. "If the tapers were but lighted! And then I wonder what will happen!" He was so impatient that for sheer longing he got a pain in his back.

Evening came at last; the candles were lighted. What splendor! Suddenly both folding doors were opened, and a troop of children rushed in as though they would upset the tree. The older persons followed quietly, and then the little ones stood quite still. But it was only for a moment; then they shouted and danced round the tree, and one present after another was pulled off. Every evening for a week the tapers were lighted, and the little Pine began to think this splendor should last forever. But no, he was mistaken.

When the lights were burned down to the branches, they were put out, one after another, and then the children had permission to plunder the tree. The next day he was dragged out of the room, and up stairs into the loft; and here in a dark corner they left him.

"What does this mean?" thought the tree. "What am I to do here?"

Days and nights passed, and nobody came up, and when somebody did come, it was only to put some trunks in a corner out of the way. It seemed as if the little tree had been entirely forgotten.

"Oh, how happy I was in the wood, only I did not know it!" said the tree. "If I could only see the sunshine and the flowers and hear the birds sing. I am so lonely here, if only some one would come! But I'll take care to enjoy myself when I'm brought out again." But when was that to be?

Why, one morning many people came and set to work in the loft. The trunks were moved, the tree was pulled out and thrown down on the floor, and then a man drew him towards the stair, where he could at least see the daylight.

"Now a merry life; will begin again," thought the tree. He felt the fresh air, the first sunbeams,—and now he was out in the yard.

All passed so quickly that the tree quite forgot to look to himself. In the garden all was in flower; the roses hung so fresh and odorous over the trellis, the lindens were in bloom, the swallows flew by and said,

"Quirre-rit, quirre-rit, spring has come!"

"Now then, I shall really enjoy life," said the tree, and spread out his branches; but, alas! they were all withered and yellow.

It was in a corner that he lay, among weeds and nettles. The golden star of tinsel was still on the top of the tree, and glittered in the sunshine. Some of the children who had danced round him at Christmas time were in the yard, and were glad at the sight of him.

The tree beheld all the beauty round him, and then as he beheld himself, he wished he had remained in the dark corner in the loft. He thought of his first youth in the wood, and of the merry Christmas Eve.

"'Tis over—'tis past!" said the poor tree. "Had I but rejoiced when I had reason to do so! But now 'tis past, 'tis past!"

The gardener's son chopped the tree into small pieces; there was a whole heap lying there. The wood flamed up splendidly under the large brewing copper, and it sighed deeply! Each sigh was like a shot. All, all was over; every tale must end at last.

A little way off, on the edge of the roof, stood the father Stork, quite upright and stiff; not liking to be quite idle, he drew up one leg, and stood on the other, so still that it seemed almost as if he were carved in wood.

"It must look very grand," thought he, "for my wife to have a sentry guarding her nest. They do not know that I am her husband; they think I have been commanded to stand here, which is quite aristocratic;" and so he continued standing on one leg.

In the street below were a number of children at play, and when they caught sight of the Storks, one of the boldest among the boys, began to sing a song about them, and very soon he was joined by the rest. These are the words of the song, but each only sang what he could remember of them in his own way.

"Just hear what those boys are singing," said the young Storks; "they say we shall be hanged and roasted."

"Never mind what they say; you need not listen," said the mother. "They can do no harm."

But the boys went on singing and pointing at the Storks, and mocking at them, excepting one of the boys whose name was Peter; he said it was a shame to make fun of animals, and would not join with them. The mother Stork comforted her young ones, and told them not to mind. "See," she said, "how quiet your father stands, although he is only on one leg."

"But we are very much frightened," said the young Storks, and they drew back their heads into the nest.

The next day when the children were playing together, and saw the Storks, they sang the song again.

"Shall we be hanged and roasted?" asked the young Storks.

"No, certainly not," said the mother. "I will teach you to fly, and when you have learned, we will fly into the meadows, and pay a,visit to the frogs, who will bow themselves to us in the water, and cry 'Croak, croak,' and then we shall eat them; that will be fun."

"And what next?" asked the young Storks.

"Then," replied the mother, "all the Storks in the country will assemble together, and go through their autumn maneuvers, so that it is very important for every one to know how to fly properly; if they do not, the general will thrust them through with his beak, and kill them. Therefore you must take pains and learn, so as to be ready when drilling begins."

"Then we may be killed after all, as the boys say; and hark! they are singing again."

"Listen to me, and not to them," said the mother Stork. "After the great review is over, we shall fly away to warm countries, far from hence, where there are mountains and forests. To Egypt, where we shall see three-cornered houses built of stone, with pointed tops that reach nearly to the clouds. They are called Pyramids, and are older than a Stork could imagine; and in that country, there is a river that overflows its banks, and then goes back, leaving nothing but mire; there we can walk about, and eat frogs in abundance."

"Oh, o-h!" cried the young Storks.

"Yes, it is a delightful place; there is nothing to do all day long but to eat, and while we are so well off out there, in this country there will not be a single green leaf on the trees, and the weather will be so cold that the clouds will freeze, and fall on the earth in little white rags." The Stork meant snow, but she could not explain it in any other way.

"Will the naughty boys freeze and fall in pieces?" asked the young Storks.

"No, they will not freeze and fall into pieces," said the mother, but they will be very cold, and be obliged to sit all day in a dark, gloomy room, while we shall be flying about in foreign lands, where there are blooming flowers and warm sunshine."

Time passed on, and the young Storks grew so large, that they could stand upright in the nest and look about them. The father brought them, every day, beautiful frogs, little snares, and all kind of Stork dainties that he could lied. And then, how funny it was to see the tricks he would perform to amuse them. Ile would lay his head quite around over his tail, and clatter with his beak, as if it had been a rattle; and then he would tell them stories, all about the marshes and fens.

"Come," said the mother one day, "now you must learn to fly." All the young Storks were obliged to come out on the roof. Oh, how frightened they were at first, and how they tottered, and were obliged to balance themselves with their wings, or they would have fallen to the ground below.

"Look at me," said the mother, "you must hold your heads in this way, and place your feet so. Once, twice, once, twice-that is it."

Then she flew a short distance, and the young ones made a spring to follow her, but fell plump, as their bodies were still too heavy.

"I don't want to learn to fly, I don't care about going to warm countries," said one of the young Storks, creeping back into his nest.

"Would you like to stay here, and freeze when the winter comes, or till the bad boys come to hang you or roast you?" said the mother.

"Oh, no, no," said the young Stork jumping out on the roof with the others; and now all were attentive, and by the third day could fly a little. The boys came again in the street singing their song:

"Shall we fly down, and pick their eyes out?" asked the young Storks.

"No, leave them alone, and listen to me," said the mother.

"But may we not punish them?" asked the Storks, who felt quite brave now they could fly, and would not be quieted until their mother promised they could be revenged before they flew away, but they must wait until the day of their departure.

"We must first see how you acquit yourselves at the grand review," said she. "If you get on badly there, the general will thrust his beak through you, and you will be killed as the boys said, though not in the same manner, so we must wait and see."

"You shall see," said the young birds, and they took such pains, and practiced so well, it was quite a pleasure to see them fly so lightly, and prettily. As soon as Autumn came, all the Storks began to assemble together at the marsh, before taking their departure to a warm country for the winter. Then the grand review commenced. And the general pronounced them fine soldiers, and they received a mark of honor, and presents of frogs, and snakes, which they enjoyed most of all, for they could eat the frogs and snakes, which they did quickly.

"Now let us have our revenge," they cried.

"Yes, certainly," replied the mother. "I have thought upon the best way to be revenged. I know the pond in which all the little babies lie, waiting till the Storks come to take them to their parents. The prettiest little babies lie there, dreaming sweet dreams. All parents are glad to have a little child, and all children are much pleased to have the Storks bring them a little brother or sister. Now, we will fly to the pond, and fetch a little baby for each of the children who did not sing that naughty song.

"But that naughty little boy who always began to sing the ugly song first, what shall we do to him?" cried the young Storks.

The mother thought for awhile, and then replied:

"I will tell you what you may do; you will not take a baby to his home at all, but may take little Peter, (the little boy who told the others it was a shame to laugh at animals,) a brother and sister too, because he was so good, and after this, we will name all the Storks, Peter, after this good little boy."

So they all did what their mother had arranged, and then flew off for their winter home rejoicing.

"If you want to live in the woods," said the Woodpecker, "I will show you an old tree, with a splendid deep hole in it, which I do not want myself. There is also plenty of rotten wood for bedding."

"And those old trees are such close places—enough to smother one!" said the Oriole. "I will teach you to hang your nest on the end of an elm branch; weaving together moss, and hair, and twine, till neither wind nor weather can get through. There you can sit, and look at the world, and swing your cradle—or the wind will rock it for you."

"But, after all, there's no place for one's nest like a good sand-bank," said the Sand Marten. "People say it is dangerous in heavy rains, but I never was washed away yet.

"It is dangerous, however," said his cousin, the Chimney Swallow. "I will show you how to go down the tall chimneys, and build there, where the air is always warm. And my nest is made of sticks, which are easy to get; and of glue, which I make myself."

"You never get washed away, I suppose," said the Barn Swallow, "with your sticks and your glue! Depend upon it, Mrs. Pigeon, there's nothing like mud for building."

"Yes, I like mud, and always use it myself," said the little Phoebe; "but I think, under the cow-shed is more airy and pleasant than under the eaves of that dark barn."

"After all," remarked the Robin, "for all family, purposes, give me a good, well-woven nest in the crotch of an apple-tree—the walls of horse-hair, and moss, and twigs, well lined with feathers."

"It's pleasant, too, very pleasant, in my rose-bush," said the Sparrow, "where the rose-leaves drop down on my speckled eggs."

Now the Pigeon, although a very pretty little thing—very polite, too, for she had not ceased bobbing her head to the other birds all the time they were talking—was yet, I am sorry to say, a little conceited. She walked about on her little red feet, turning her head from side to side, and showing the purple and green tints on her neck, and at last she said:

"I am really very much obliged to you all, but I know how."

"What!" cried out all the other birds, "have you been taught?"

"No," said the Pigeon, bobbing her head as before, "but I know how."

The birds were quite silent for a minute (only the Robin whistled), but then they again offered their services.

"Thank you," said the Pigeon, "you are very kind, but I know how." And the birds flew away and left her.

Then the Pigeon began by herself. She tried to make a mud nest; but, because she did not know enough to mix straws with mud, her nest fell to pieces; site tried weaving; but she got her claws and beak entangled in the moss, and very near him g herself with a long horse-hair. Then she flew off to the sand-bank, where was a whole settlement of Martens, but when she tried to dig a hole in the sand, site came near being buried alive.

The Pigeon felt quite discouraged; but she was too proud to ask help of the other birds, and they had no mind to be refused again by a little lady who knew everything. So the Pigeon went off and sat by the barn, moping, and idle, till at last some man took pity on her, and built her a little house of wood.

But there was no neat nest inside—nothing but some loose straw, and there Pigeon laid her white eggs; and to this day she lives in just such a little, dark, close place, or in the woods has a careless little heap of twigs for a nest; and all because she was too proud, or too haughty, or too conceited to learn of others; while the Blackbird sways about merrily on the water reeds, and the Oriole swings on his elm branch, and the Sparrow

"To-morrow," he said, "is the day when the snails come out of their houses for the yearly house-cleaning. On a bank, about half a mile from here, there is a colony of them, thousands and thousands. If I were younger, and had not broken my leg, I should certainly go and get some. The white snails are the most tender and juicy, and if any of the rest of you go, I should be much obliged if you would bring me a few."

"Do you hear that?" said Mrs. Speckle to her children. "If you will be good chickens, I will take you to-morrow morning to get some snails."

"I shall also take my children," remarked Dame Duck. "Shall we go together, neighbor Speckle?"

Mrs. Speckle drew herself up, and said, haughtily, "I cannot allow my children to walk with ducks. Though I wish to be civil to every one in the barn-yard, ma'am, you must perceive that you belong to a very different set from the one in which I move," and, chuckling to her brood, she walked off, leaving pour Dame Duck to recover from her surprise as best she might.

By the time the ducklings were ready to start, their mother found that Mrs. Speckle and her family had departed an hour before.

"Oh!" cried the ducklings, "will they eat all the snails before we get there?"

"I trust not," replied their mother. "The old Shanghai said there were thousands upon thousands of snails, and you know chicks can't eat as fast as we can, owing to their bills."

"Quack!" said the ducklings. "But let us hurry, dear mother, for we are all very hungry," and they waddled away as fast as they could go.

At first the sun shone brightly, and the ducks suffered much from the beat; but after a while a great, soft, purple cloud came drifting across the sky. Soon it covered the heavens, and the rain began to fall, in drops at first, then faster and faster, till at length it poured down in torrents, so that the road was covered with water.

"Quack! quack! quacky!" cried the ducklings. "Isn't this delightful? quack! look at the puddles! quack! They are deep enough to swim in. Was there ever such a beautiful day?" and they paddled about in high glee.

Presently Dame Duck heard a confused and mournful clucking and peeping, and looking about her she spied Mrs. Speckle and her brood huddled together under a burdock leaf, and looking very wretched indeed. She was about to pass by with a civil greeting, but Mrs. Speckle cried:

"O neighbor Duck! neighbor Duck! do you think this dreadful deluge will last long, or is it only a shower?"

"Can't say, I'm sure!" replied Dame Duck. "It looks like a good steady rain; the best possible thing for the country."

The unhappy hen made no reply, and Dame Duck, who was really very good natured, added, more kindly,

"Surely, Airs. Speckle, you are not afraid of a pleasant summer rain like this? It will do your little ones good to run about in it, and you yourself will find it most pleasant and cooling to the feet, I assure you."

But the hen shook her head, murmuring something about rheumatism and neuralgia; so Dame Duck, calling to her children, walked cheerily on.

In fact, poor Mrs. Speckle was destined to have no snail-hunt that day. Even when the rain stopped, as it did after a time, she was no better off: for she had not led her dripping chickens more than a hundred yards forward, before they came to a broad, swift stream, which flowed between them and the mud-bank, where they saw the ducks gobbling snails as fast as their bills could open and shut. There was nothing to do but turn round and go home, for neither mother nor chickens could swim a stroke.

Cross, tired, and hungry, Mrs. Speckle and her family reached the barn-yard at last, and took refuge in their own coop, too much vexed and distressed to speak to any one. They heard the joyous quacking which announced the return of the duck family, but they did not care to look out.

Worn out with fatigue, Mrs. Speckle was just dropping into a doze, when suddenly something cool and green was placed under her bill. It was a leaf-basket; and it was filled with snails, plump, white, and delicious.

"Quack," said the good duck. "Mrs. Speckle, ma'am, here is a little relish for your supper; and remember that, after all, there may be some good in neighbors who are not in your set."

"This snow," began an old sparrow with a twisted bill, "is something I don't like. Robin Red Breast told me a month ago that it would come, and said we should do better to fly away to the South with him, but I thought I would stand by the tree. I felt badly enough when they took us out of our English oak and brought us across the sea, for I am a homebody. But this snow! I don't know where to set my feet, or pick a crumb for breakfast."

"Can't we go back to our English oak?" asked a younger sparrow, "it isn't so cold there."

"Not if they don't choose to carry us," said the old sparrow.

"I have heard," said another, "that the people who live in these beautiful houses around the park are very kind, and will give us plenty to eat if we will act a bit friendly. Let's go over to that balcony. I see a little boy behind the glass looking at us now, and he looks kind and gentle."

So there was a whirring of wings, and all the sparrows went over to the balcony, making the light snow fly as they alighted.

How the little boy's face brightened as they came.

"I wonder if God sent the little sparrows?" he said, for he had just been reading how God gives the lilies their beautiful dress, and how He feeds the little birds. Just as he read, " Your Heavenly Father feedeth them," he looked over to the old elm, and they all came to him in a flock.

"What does it mean, mamma," he said, calling his mother to him (for he was lame), and telling her all about it.

"God has given you plenty of crumbs and a pair of hands to scatter them with," said his mother. "Perhaps that is the way our Heavenly Father wants to feed His sparrows."

A few minutes later the happy-faced boy was scattering crumbs on the balcony to as happy a group of sparrows, and every morning and evening all winter they came to their young provider for breakfast and supper, and the little lame boy and the merry sparrows grew to be great friends.

"My dear," Mr. Robin was saying, "don't you think our children are old enough to learn to fly?"

"Yes, indeed," said mamma robin; "I think it high time that Dotty and Singer should learn to fly, and I have been thinking that if the morning is pleasant we might begin to-day."

"Very well," said Mr. Robin, "and as I have a few things to say to them before I take them out of the nest, we had better go and wake them."

So they flew toward the nest, singing as they went.

"Well, Dotty and Singer, how would you like to try your wings today?" said papa robin, when they had reached the nest.

"O, ever so much!" cried both robins in a breath.

"Very well, we shall go out with you every morning for a while; after that you must go by yourselves. But before I take you into the world at all, there are a few things which I wish to say to you."

"In the first place, I hope you will always make yourselves as useful as possible in your own way, without trying to imitate other birds, for you will meet a great many birds, who, in both appearances and habits are very much like yourselves, others, who are very different. But all have a certain work to do, and are noted for certain qualities. Now you will find some birds called ducks, who are very good swimmers; others, called chickens who are good scratchers; some sing very sweetly, others are noted for their flight."

"Now, in my opinion, a robin should try and learn to hop well, to fly well, also to sing well. But there is another thing I wish to say to you, and that is in looking for worms for your meals, I hope you will always go among the farmers' crops, for both the farmer and his children have been very kind to us. We have lived very peaceably, and not one of the nests on the farm have been robbed or molested in any way. You can make yourselves useful to him in this way, as worms are very destructive to the crops. But ready, now, for your lesson."

So saying, he hopped out of the nest upon a twig close by, the little robins following.

Dotty and Singer were very much pleased with their first lesson, and continued their practice every day until their wings were quite strong. They were then allowed to fly about by themselves as they pleased.

Now Dotty was an obedient little robin; he remembered all that he had been told, and guided all his actions according to the advice he had received.

But, sad to say, Singer did not. He would sit upon a twig for hours and watch the ducks and geese swim on the nice, clear pond, and thought of the nice time he might have if he could swim; or he would listen to hear the rooster crow, and wonder why he could not do the same.

Dotty would often try to get him out of this mood. "Come, Singer," he would say, "come and help me wake up the children. You know they love to hear us sing, and may oversleep themselves if they do not hear us."

"No, indeed," Singer would reply, "I do not intend to spoil my voice for those children.; and, besides, I am very anxious to learn how to swim just now, and I mean to ask that duck down there on the pond to teach me."

So saying, he flew down to the edge of the pond and called to the duck.

The duck turned her head, looked at the robin awhile, and asked presently:

"Well, little robin, what do you want?"

"I have come to see whether you would teach me to swim."

"Teach you to swim? Well, let me see your feet."

"Why, you have no web between your toes."

"Why, of course not; who ever heard of a robin having a web between his toes? How could we hop with such clumsy feet?"

"Well," said the duck, "webbed feet are necessary for swimming birds; and beside that, I don't think that yourfeathers are oiled."

"O no, indeed, my feathers are not oiled."

"Well, in that case the water will soak right to your skin, and you would take many colds. But why do you wish to learn to swim; can't you do anything else?"

"Yes," said Singer, "I can sing."

"Sing!" said the duck, "strange I never hear you; I am afraid you do not practice very much. I would advise you to give up the idea of swimming and try to cultivate your voice."

So saying, the duck swam off, and left Singer standing at the edge of the pond.

The next day Dotty asked Singer whether the duck had taught him to swim.

"No," said Singer, "she would not teach me because my feet are not big and clumsy like her own, and because my feathers are not oiled. But I don't mean to give up. I am going to ask that beautiful swan; I feel sure she won't refuse me."

"I do wish that you would give up that foolish idea," said Dotty.

"The duck is right, you will never learn to swim because you were not made for that purpose; and you will be much happier if you will stay with the rest of the robins and be content."

Have you heard about the party that is to be given to-morrow?"

"The party?" said Singer, "why no. Tell me about it."

"All the birds about the farm are to meet near the pond to-morrow, and we expect to have a grand time; for all the different classes of birds are to display their particular talents, and of course there will be a winner in each class, and prizes are to be awarded to each. All the swimming birds are to try a race on the pond, the roosters will crow, and we robins are going to sing. But, dear me! I am afraid I have been talking here too long; I really must be off, for I have an engagement with fifty other robins to search for worms among the farmers' crops, for our feast to-morrow. Come with me, Singer, and I will tell you the rest on the way."

"I cannot come just now," said Singer, "but I may come bye and bye."

"O," thought Singer, after Dotty had gone, "I must learn to swim to-day. To-morrow will be the day for me to show that old duck that I can learn to swim; and won't the other robins be surprised when they see me on the pond? But there is the swan on the pond now, I must go and ask her."

So Singer called to the swan and asked her the same question which he had asked the duck. Now the swan was a very wise old bird. She knew that Singer was very foolish and needed a lesson, not in swimming, however, but one which would cure him of his foolish desire. So she said, pleasantly:

"O, yes, I will teach you, if you think you can learn. Just hop upon my back, sit quietly, and watch me for awhile; this will help you partly to accustom yourself to the water."

Singer did as he was told, and they were soon gliding smoothly around the pond. He thought this fine sport, but felt frightened when the swan told him to hop off her back into the water.

"O," said Singer, "I would rather stay where I am."

"But you will never learn to swim up there," so saying, the swan gave her body a slight shake, and Singer knew that this meant that he was to go into the water, and so he did; but, alas! alas! for poor Singer. The water seemed to soak through his body; he tried to keep up with his wings, but these too became so wet and felt so heavy that he was obliged to drop them helplessly to his sides; and his poor little feet without a web seemed of no use at all.

Poor Singer begged the swan piteously to help him out of the water, which. of course, she intended to do from the beginning, for she was wise enough to know just what would happen. So she dived under the water, and poor Sin ger partly hopped and partly climbed upon the swan's back again, and was taken back to the shore without a word. And although Singer was not a happy robin he certainly was a wiser one. And when the party came off the following day, Singer, of course, was quite sick, and had such a sore throat that he could not sing at all.

During his illness Singer had a great deal of time to think, and often said to himself: "After till, I am very glad that I was not drowned, for then I should not have had a chance to correct my bad habit; but now I mean to get over it entirely," and so he did. The lesson he had received was not only a lesson to hire, but was a benelit to all other birds, who, like Singer, were not content with their own particular talents.

Now another hen, named Tufty, thought it would be nice to have little chickens, too; but she was very smart, and found a place away off, that the cook didn't know about, and there she laid her eggs, and one day she surprised all the other hens by walking into the chicken-yard with twelve little chickens toddling after her. Now I had learned how sorry Yellow Foot felt because she had no little chickens, and when I saw Tufty walking about so proudly with her twelve, I felt very sorry indeed for Yellow Foot.

Well, that very afternoon something very funny happened. I was walking about the farm, and I found in the corner of a rail fence a turkey sitting on some eggs, and running around her was a little lonely chicken, just out of its shell, making such a pitiful peep, peep, I took it up in my apron and ran and asked one of the men what it could mean; he said that a hen's egg had by mistake been put with the turkey's eggs, and it takes just a week longer for turkeys' eggs to hatch than it does for the hen's eggs. The poor little chicken had come out of its shell a week before there was any one to take care of it. When I heard that, I thought, "Poor little chicken, what will you do, for I don't know how to take care of you at all, and it will be a week before that ugly turkey gets ready to do it, and you'll be dead by that time." And then suddenly I thought, "Why, this little chick is just as old as the twelve that were hatched this morning. I'll take it to the chicken-yard and set it down among them, and Tufty will take care of it;" so I ran to the chicken-yard and put it with the other little chicks, and it ran after Tufty jest like the others; but you can't believe how badly Tufty acted; the minute she heard the strange little "peep" with the twelve other little "peeps," she turned around and stood still a minute, and then all her feathers stuck out, and she bobbed her head, and then she pounced on my poor little chicken and gave it an awful pick. Wasn't it cruel? I didn't know what to do. I was afraid to go near Tufty, because she would think that I was going to catch her little chicks, and I knew she would try to peck me just as she did my poor little chicken. While I was thinking, she flew at it again and gave it another peek. This time I didn't stop to think, but I jumped and caught it, and ran before Tufty could catch me. I ran till I felt quite safe, and then sat down on the kitchen door-step, with my poor chicken in my apron, and cried. I think I must have cried pretty loud, because mother heard me and came out. When I told her all about it, she said:

"Why didn't you try old Yellow Foot?"

At that I jumped up and clapped my hands with delight, and my poor little chicken dropped on the grass, but it didn't hurt it, and I put it carefully in my apron and went to the chicken-yard again to try mother's plan. I had a hard time finding old Yellow Foot, but finally I came upon her, looking very doleful in the bottom of a barrel. I poked her with a stick, but she would not come out. At last I turned the barrel over and she had to come out. She looked very angry, and made a great deal of noise about it. I waited until she got out, and then put my little chicken down by her, and oh! you should have seen her then; she looked at it a minute, and when it "peeped," she gave a quiet little cluck, just as if she was trying to see how it sounded, and then the little chicken "peeped" again, and Yellow Foot clucked again, and walked around, and the chicken followed her. So my little chicken had found some one to take care of her, and I named her Lucky, right away, and oh, how proud Yellow Foot was! She strutted everywhere with her odd chick, and all the love. and care she was going to give the twelve she gave to this one. She scratched for it, and clucked for it, and fought for it, and gave it all the warm cover of her wings at night; little Lucky seemed to know that she had all the care that was meant for twelve, for she was the happiest little chick that ever lived.

He thought it never would be morning. At last, when it seemed as though he had laid awake for hours, he fell asleep, and lay quietly upon his pillow till the sun shone through his open window right into his face.

Would you like to know why Bert was so excited?

I am in the secret, so if we go down the ladder-like stairs, out through the little kitchen, and on into the shed at the back of the house, we shall find out the cause of all Bert's excitement. There, in the corner, in part of an old basket, sits Mrs. Hen, rather excited herself this morning.

But what can that have to do with Bert's excitement? Well, Bert has one little sister—golden-haired, blue-eyed Maggie, whom he loves very dearly. "What can I do for Maggie?" is his one thought. For weeks he saved all his pennies, and ran all sorts of errands for the neighbors, so that he might have money for Maggie's birthday present.

Maggie will be four to-morrow, and Mrs. Hen has been sitting there in that basket for three long weeks, and the chickens ought to be out to-morrow, and Maggie does not know anything about it yet.

How Bert has had to watch. to keep Maggie away from the shed, and how carefully he has attended to Mrs. Hen's few wants!

When the sun shines full in Bert's face, he wakes up. One spring carries him almost across the room to his clothes. He wakes Frank, and they hurry on their clothes and on down to the shed. He trembles so, for fear they will not find things as he wants them, that he can scarcely lift the latch to the shed door. But when once inside, he feels sure that he hears the tiny, "Chirp, chirp."

Down on his knees he goes, and, in spite of Mrs. Hen's pecks at his hands, he can feel under her two, three or even four little balls of down.

Running into the house, and waking them all with the happy shout, "Maggie, it is your birthday!" he snatches Maggie from her bed and hurries her down to the shed.

All his self-denial is fully repaid now by Maggie's delight, for she at once takes one of the little soft chickens up in her hands and kisses and kisses it.

Her delight has to be cut short for a time, though, when her mother came to get Maggie to dress her, for Bert, in his excitement, had carried her off in her night clothes.

Sit not when others stand; walk not when others stop; speak not when you should hold your peace.

Turn not your back to others, especially in speaking; jog not the table or desk on which another reads, writes or works; lean not on any one.

When another speaks be attentive.

Eat not with greediness; lean not on the table; neither find fault with what you eat.

When you speak of God be serious.

Honor and obey your parents.

Play not the peacock, looking everywhere about you to see if your shoes fit well, if your stockings set neatly and clothe yourself simple.

Now you must know, that a horse cannot travel in this hot sand; it would burn his feet, to be sure, but then his feet are so heavy that he would sink away down into it, and he would have to pull his feet out of it, which would make him very tired indeed.

But the good God has made an animal for the people who have to cross this desert, whose feet will not sink into the sand, nor burn in it either. This animal is the camel, the brown, shaggy camel, with its large hump of fat upon its back.

Have you ever seen a sponge? Is it not soft and light, and if you press it with anything, does it not always spring up again? The camel's feet are like a sponge, and never sink into the sand- he can run over it as fast as a horse on our streets.

I told you before this, that one could find nothing to eat on a desert, for nothing can grow on hot sand, and there is no water to be had either.

Well, you all know that a horse drinks water every day, does it not? If you should forget to give your pet horse water every day, it would neigh and neigh until it got it, one or two bucketfuls.

Not so with the good old camel. He can do without water for a long time, because God gave him nine stomachs. When he does drink water, he needs almost a barrel, or even more than that. Besides, he does not need to eat every day as we need to. That hump is composed of fat, and when he gets nothing to eat, he feeds off of that hump-not by chewing it off from the outside, but by letting the fat down into his stomach.

Because he is so useful in crossing the desert, in fact because men could not cross the desert at all if they did not have the camel, he is called the ship of the desert.

Not long ago, a papa, mamma, and their little children lived in one of these green spots I told you of (called Oasis). They did not live in a house, but in a tent made of cloth and tied to poles, such as our soldiers live in. They had no beds or chairs, but slept and sat on pretty bright rugs, such as your mamma has before the hearth.

This papa and mamma had a little boy whose name was Dido. Is not that a funny name for a little boy? A funny, but a good little boy he was. His face was brown like a nut, not from the sun, because his papa's and mamma's and little brother's and sister's faces were brown, also; his hair was as black as could be and very long, his eyes were black as coal.

The little children could not go to the Kindergarten, or play on the street, or go to the store for mamma, because there were no such things as these on the oasis. They had sand enough to play in, more than they could use. What pretty mounds and sand tents they would make!

One day while at play in the sand, they heard something bleating close by, and when they looked up, what do you think they saw? Why, it was a tiny baby camel, which must have lost its mamma, and did not know where to go.

They called it, and sure enough it came up to them and was as tame as could be. They took it home, and papa said, "If no one comes to claim it, you may keep it." IIe gave it milk to drink and put it in the tent.

It grew larger and tamer day by day; it would play with the children like a dog does, but of all the children, it liked ][)!do best, because he fed it, and hugged and kissed it before it went to sleep on his rub at night. He loved it so dearly.

After it had been with them for a month, papa said, one day, "I think no one will. come to claim the camel, so we can keep it as our own, and now it must have a name, and what shall it be? Suppose we call him David, that will be a good name, for he is a very fine camel."

"O papa, you say he is such a fine camel, and I tell you, he is a very wise camel, also, let us call him Solomon, because he is fine and wise like the king Solomon."

Papa said, "Yes, we will call him Solomon."

He then put a silver chain, with a little silver bell hanging to it, around his neck. How proud he was of it, and how soon he learned his new name! When the children called, "Solomon, Solomon, come here quick," he would run to them as fast as he could.

He grew and grew until he was so large that if you wanted to climb upon his hump, you would need a ladder to do so.

One day, mamma said to papa, "papa, all the coffee is used, and so are the spices; you will have to cross the desert and get us some from the city."

"Yes, mamma, I will," said papa, "I suppose I can ride Solomon, he is large and strong enough. I will go in a few days, for I will have to feed him well and give him a great deal of water first."

Several days had passed, and one evening as the sun was setting, papa said, " To-morrow morning I will start, and if Dido would like to go, I will take him with me, as he is now large enough to travel."

How happy Dido was to go, you can imagine, as he had never been over the desert on a cannel's back before.

They went to sleep early that night, for they had to be up before the sun in the morning.

Papa gave Solomon a whole barrel of water to drink; then he motioned to him to get down upon his knees, which he did; then Dido and his papa got upon the hump, Dido in front of his papa, and as soon as they were safely on, Solomon got up and started to run. He hardly gave them time to say good-bye to mamma and the children. He ran so fast over the sand, that in a little while they were quite far away from home.

They rode all day and all the night, Solomon running all the time over the hot, dry sand, and the next morning, papa said, "If Solomon keeps on going as fast as he does now, we will be near the city before the sun sets."

Papa had scarcely finished speaking, when they saw some more camels with men on their backs. They were very glad to meet some people to talk to, and ride with over the lonesome desert.

But, alas! when they came nearer, Dido said, "O papa, hurry up and run Solomon as fast as he can, don't you see what bad faces those men have?" and then papa saw that they were robbers who would hurt men.

But up they came as fast as they could, and cried to Dido's papa, "stop, and give us your money or we will hurt you."

When papa said they had just a little money with them to buy groceries, they took a large club and hit papa and little Dido over the head, so. that they both fell in the hot dry sand like dead, and then they took Solomon, for they saw that he was a valuable camel, and rode off in great haste.

Well, how long Dido and his papa lay there unconscious, I cannot tell, but it was a very long time indeed. The first one to open his eyes was Dido. At first he did not remember what had happened, but when he saw his papa with a great hole in his head, and the blood coming out of it, he remembered the robbers.

He called his papa until he also opened his eyes, but he felt so weak and sick that he could scarcely speak to him.

"Where is Solomon?" was the first thing he said.

"The robbers have taken him," said Dido.

"O dear!" said papa. "Then we will have to die here in the desert, because we are miles away from an oasis, and I am so thirsty; what shall we do for water? We will' never see mamma and the children again."

Papa had scarcely spoken when Dido said, "Papa, listen, listen! don't you hear something that sounds like a bell away off in the distance?"

Sure enough, it came nearer and nearer, and who do you think it was? Why, Solomon, of course. He had run away from the robbers and come back to them.

When he got to where they lay, he sunk down on his knees, as much as to say, "Get on my back and I will take you to where water is to be had." They got on, and he ran and ran, and before long they reached an oasis, found water and felt better, and proceeded to the city to buy what they needed.

This is what she sang:

"Moo, moo!" said something not far from Susy. "You think that's so do you?" And Madam Jersey Cow looked very doubtfully at baby. Said she: "Can he kick up his heels and frolic all over the yard?"

"Why no," said Susy; "he can't walk yet."

"Ah! how old is he?"

"Nearly a year old," said Susy.

"Nearly a year! My child walked before she was two days old." The cow gave a scornful sniff and walked off without another look.

"Baa-aa," said an old sheep, walking up with a snow-white, downy lamb. "Let me see. He is a nice little thing, sure enough. But has he only two legs?"

"That's all," said Susy.

"Then mine is worth twice as much, of course—and he has no nice, white wool like my lamb."

"No," said Susy, "but see what pretty curly hair he has."

"I don't think I would wish to trade with you," said the sheep, and she and her lamb trotted away, and went to eating grass.

"Quack, quack, quack. Let me take a look." And Mrs. Duck flew upon the edge of the manger.

"His feet don't look as if he'd make a good swimmer," she said, looking at baby's pink, dimpled toes.

"Oh! he can't swim at all," said Susy.

"Good-bye," said Airs. Duck. "All my ducklings can swim."

"Chip, chip, chip," was the next sound Susy heard. From its nest in an old elm tree which stood near, a robin flew down and perched on the edge of a pitchfork. She turned her head from side to side gazing at baby in a very wise way.

"What can he sing!" said she.

"Ah! he can't sing at all yet," said Susy, "he's too little."

"Too little!" exclaimed Mrs. Red Breast, "why he's tremendous! Can't he sing fee, fee, fee, tweet, tweet?"

"No, no," said Susy.

"All my children sang well at four months. Has he little red feathers on his breast?"

"No, no," said Susy.

"I shouldn't like to hurt your feelings, but you see how much I should lose on an exchange, and I am sure you would not wish that."

"No, I shouldn't," said Sasy. And Mrs. Red Breast flew away.

"Cluck, cluck,—peep, peep." Mrs. White Leghorn hen came along with her downy chicks. "I havn't much time to look," said the hen, "and I should hardly be willing to trade. Can your baby say peep, peep, when he is hungry?"

"When he is hungry he cries, but not peep, peep," said Susy.

"I see his legs are not yellow either, so I'll bid you a very good afternoon."

Off she went, ruffling her feathers and clucking and scratching till Susy laughed aloud.

"I don't wonder you laugh," murred something near her.

Susy turned in great surprise. There at the other end of the manger, in a cozy corner, was her old grey cat. That wasn't all. There were three little kits; a white one, a black one and a grey one. Susy had not seen them before and she fondled them lovingly.

"She's so proud because she has twelve," said Mrs. Puss looking after Mrs. Hen. "Now, I think a small family is much better—three for instance. Don't you think three enough?"

"Indeed I think one's enough, if its teething," said Susy.

"Mine never have trouble with their teeth. Perhaps I can never teach your baby to purr or to catch mice. Still I believe I'll take him, and let you have one kitten as I have three."

"Oh!" no! you don't understand me," said Susy. "I don't want to change at all. I'd rather have my little brother than anything else in the world."

But Mrs. Puss took hold of him as if to carry him off. Baby gave a scream and then Susy awoke!

"Little brook, won't you take me with you?" said the boy.

The brook answered, "I cannot wait for you, dear child; I have much work to do to-day."

"What can you have to do?" asked the boy.

"I will tell," said the brook: "I must go to the mill and turn the wheels; must flow to the meadows and water the flowers; must take water to the people, so they can drink and bathe; all the birds and animals drink from me, and the river is waiting for me to take me to the sea. In the sea there are many big fishes, and heavy vessels that I help to carry. You, dear child, must stay with your mother till you are grown. So, for the present, good-bye."

"Good-bye, dearest brooklet, I wish you a pleasant journey; and some day, when I am a man, I will follow you."

"Tulip open your flower a little, and will you kindly let me slip in, out of the rain?"

The tulip said, "I will open to the red and yellow ones, because they are like me, but I won't let the white one in."

Then the red and yellow butterflies said, "If you won't take in our little brother we won't come in either, thank you." Now it rained harder and harder, and they flew away to the lily.

"Dear lily, will you please let us in?"

The lily answered, "I'll let the white one in, because he is like me, but I won't let in the other two."

Then the white butterfly said, "If my two brothers can't come in I will not come in either, thank you."

So they all flew away together. Now the sun behind the clouds had heard how the butterflies were true to each other, and shone out again bright and clear, and very soon dried the wings of the three butterflies. They danced once more over the flowers and played until it was night, and then went home; the door was wide open, the last sunbeam had opened it for them, in they flew and all went to bed.

Unfortunately, Charlotte