WHAT THE BLACKBIRD SAID. 

 A Story _IN FOUR CHIRPS_. 

 BY MRS. FREDERICK LOCKER. 

 _ILLUSTRATED BY RANDOLPH CALDECOTT. _

 LONDON GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL NEW YORK: 416 BROOME STREET 1881

 LONDON: R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, BREAD STREET HILL, E. C. 

 TO MY DEAR CHILDREN, GODFREY AND DOROTHY, THIS LITTLE STORY IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED BY THEIR MOTHER. 

CONTENTS. PAGE CHIRP THE FIRST--WINTER 1 CHIRP THE SECOND--SPRING 22 CHIRP THE THIRD--SUMMER 47 CHIRP THE FOURTH--AUTUMN 69

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE THE BLACKBIRD ON A SMALL WHITE HILLOCK. 4 THE ROBIN'S NEST. 38 THE ROOK. 62 THE THREE FRIENDS--THE ROBIN, THE ROOK, AND THE BLACKBIRD. 84

CHIRP THE FIRST. 

The winter of 1878 was certainly an unusually dreary one, and so thoughta remarkably fine young Blackbird, as he perched one morning on the barebough of a spreading lime-tree, whose last brown leaf had fallen to theground some weeks before. 

With the exception of the Scotch firs and other fortunate evergreens, there was nothing to be seen on all sides but leafless branches standingout sharply against the cold, grey sky. The ground was frozen, andentirely covered with snow, for there had been a heavy fall during thenight. The way-marks of field and road were obliterated, all was onesheet of dazzling whiteness. Here and there a little mound marked thespot where a flower-bed lay buried, and there was one narrow path wherethe snow was thickly piled on either side, for it had been partiallyswept from the centre, which showed traces of the bright brown gravelbelow. 

The Blackbird was contemplating this landscape in a discontented andunhappy frame of mind. He was, as we have just said, a remarkably fineyoung bird. His plumage was of a glossy blackness, with which not even araven's could vie; his bright eyes looked even brighter as they gleamedfrom the deep yellow rims which surrounded them, and his bill resembledthe polished shaft of an early crocus. 

At the time at which my story begins, this Blackbird was about eightmonths old, and usually he was not a little vain of his appearance. Onthis particular morning, however, he did not feel at all so proud ofhimself, or especially pleased with any one or anything. He had passedthe long night in a wood hard by, and had been benumbed with cold. 

He had tucked his head first under one wing, and then under the other, but it had been of no use, the cutting wind had penetrated even histhick warm feathers, and had ruffled them in a way which had sorelydiscomposed him, in body as well as in mind. 

Then again, all through the night he had been exceedingly put out bylittle cold wet dabs which kept continually falling on his back. TheBlackbird had changed his position--he had done it several times: he hadmoved from a birch to an elm, and then to a beech-tree. But it was of noavail, the little cold droppings seemed to pursue him wherever he went, and it was not till quite late in the night that he found real shelter, and got a little rest in a thick mantle of ivy which completely covereda wall near the stables. 

What were these cold droppings? He could not imagine. He knew wellenough they were not rain; rain always made a sharp pelting noise as itstruck against the trees. But there had been no such sound, for, withthe exception of the occasional sighing of the wind, the night had beena singularly noiseless one. What then could this cold, soft moisturebe?

The Blackbird could not at all understand it, but as he was wellsheltered, and soon got warm in the ivy, he fell asleep and forgot allabout it. 

[Illustration: THE BLACKBIRD ON A SMALL WHITE HILLOCK. ]

The next morning, however, when he woke up and peeped forth from hisgreen canopy, he was much astonished by the sight which met his eyes. Everything was white! The green fields were gone, the lawn where hefound his worms, the flower-beds where he caught his insects, --all haddisappeared, and a broad, white, sparkling covering lay over everything. What was it? what could it mean?

The Blackbird had no one to explain it all to him, so he thought hewould just take a short flight and find out for himself. He stretchedhis wings and skimmed away over the white ground, and then he thought hewould rest for a while on a small white hillock. 

No sooner, however, had his little dusky brown feet touched the surfaceof the snow, than he found he was gradually sinking down, down into asoft, but very cold white bed. With a shrill cry of alarm he flew upagain, and did not stop until he alighted on the bough of the lime-treewhere we were first introduced to him. What was it? What wonderful andterrible new thing was this? and where was he to go for his breakfast?

He was sitting in a very melancholy frame of mind, stretching out firstone foot and then the other, when his attention was arrested by a floodof joyous song poured forth from above, and looking up, he saw abright-breasted Robin on the bough immediately over his head. 

The little bird in his scarlet and brown plumage looked more richlycoloured and even more beautiful than usual, as, supported by hisslender legs, with his head thrown back and his feathers puffed out, hepoured forth his light-hearted carol to the leafless woods. 

"How can you sing on this miserable morning?" said the Blackbird, gloomily, and indeed half contemptuously. 

"Miserable morning!" replied the Robin in a tone of surprise; "why Idon't think it's at all a miserable morning, --just look at the beautifulsnow. "

"Oh, that's what you call that white stuff down there, is it?" said theBlackbird, disdainfully gazing at the white world beneath him. 

"Yes, to be sure, " said the Robin; "have you never seen snow before?"

"No, " replied the Blackbird, "I've not, and I shan't break my heart if Inever see it again. All last night it was dropping on my back till I waswet through and through; and just now, when I flew down to look aboutfor my breakfast, why it all gave way under my feet, and I might havebeen smothered. "

"Ah, " said the Robin, shaking his head, "you won't mind it when you getmore used to it. You see you're a young bird; this is only your firstwinter. Now I saw it all last winter. I'm nearly two years old. "

The Robin said this with a certain pride of seniority, and stretchedhimself to his full height as he looked at his younger, but much morebulky, neighbour. 

"I don't see any great advantage in being old, " said the Blackbird, sarcastically; "but since you are so experienced, perhaps you can tellme what it all means?"

"Yes, I can, " said the Robin, hopping a little nearer. "Rain, you know, comes down from the clouds up there. Well, when it gets very coldindeed, as it is just now" (here the Blackbird shivered visibly), "why, then the clouds get frozen, and instead of falling in soft, warm littledrops, they come down in these white flakes, which we call snow. I amnot very learned myself, " said the Robin, humbly, "but a very wisefriend of mine, an old Rook, told me all this, and he also said that ifI examined a flake of snow, I should find it was made of beautifulcrystals, each shaped like a little star. "

"Indeed, " said the Blackbird, "that is very curious, but, in themeantime, I should very much like to know what I am to do for somethingto eat. The fruit is all gone from the garden, and I can't find anyinsects in the snow. Ivy-berries will be poorish eating day after day. "

"What do all your friends do?" asked the Robin. 

"I don't see much of my friends, " replied the Blackbird; "we Blackbirdsare not so mighty fond of each other's company, we like to live alone, we never, " he said this rather loftily, "talk much to strangers; infact, during this cold weather, we don't care to talk to each other. "

"Every one must judge for himself, " quoth the Robin, "but methinks itwould be rather a dull world if none of us spoke to each other when itwas cold. You see it's very often cold here in old England, and thewinters are very long and dark. I should like to know what we should alldo without a little cheerful talk, and an occasional snatch of song?"

"As to singing, " struck in the Blackbird, "I've been so hoarse theselast two months, that it's only when the sun is very bright indeed thatI can sing at all, and all my friends are in the same plight. There areno leaves on the trees, there is no music in the woods, there is nosunshine to speak of, and it's altogether exceedingly dull. "

The Robin did not exactly know how to reply to this wail of discontent, so he gathered himself together and poured forth a bright little song. 

"How is it, " said the Blackbird suddenly, "that you have all at oncebecome such a great songster? I never remember hearing your voice in thesummer. "

"Ah, that's it, " replied the Robin, "many people think I only sing inthe winter, but in reality I sing quite as well, and better too, forthat matter, in the summer. The truth is that it's very difficult forme to make myself heard when the larks are singing so gloriously, andthe thrushes, and the nightingales--not to speak of yourself, " said theRobin, turning round politely. "Now, however, " he continued, "there areso few woodland notes, that I think my poor little pipe may be morewelcome, and I do my best. "

Again the Robin carolled, and as the Blackbird listened he said, with acertain air of respect, "You are a good little bird, Mr. Robin, and Ifeel the better for having heard your song; all the same, however, if weare to have much of this wretched snow, I should just like to know whatI am to do for my food?"

His song ended, the Robin had been preparing to fly away, but at thesewords he drew in his little brown wings again, and said, "I hope we maymeet again in a few days, and that you may then be happier than you arejust now. In the meantime, however, it may be a help to you to hearsomething which my good friend the old Rook once told me, and which Ihave never forgotten. He said that the great God Who made you and me, and the snow, and everybody and everything, would never forget any ofus, for He not only thinks of us, but, can you believe it, not one ofthose poor little sparrows falls to the ground without His knowing it. We don't think much of the sparrows, " continued the Robin, "they arelow, mischievous creatures, but God feeds them, so I'm sure He won't letus starve. I'm only a very small bird myself, but the thought that I'mtaken care of makes me feel very happy. "

Then away flew the Robin, leaving the Blackbird on the bare branch, withmuch to think about. He had heard many new and startling things thatmorning, and now as he gazed at the snow-covered world, it was with ahappier feeling; the little Robin's discourse had not been altogetherthrown away. 

It was getting late, and as yet the Blackbird had had no breakfast. Hedetermined, therefore, to make an expedition in search of food, and hissable wings were soon bearing him swiftly over the sparkling snow. Hefirst flew to a wood not very far off, and as he alighted on a smallhazel-branch he noticed, just beyond him, a fine holly, and in spite ofthe snow he could see that it was covered with scarlet berries. How wasit that he had never noticed that beautiful bush before? The ripeberries looked very tempting, and he had soon made as substantial a mealas any hungry Blackbird could desire--indeed he left one bough almostbare. He felt all the better after this breakfast, and took quite a longexcursion over the snow-covered woods and fields in the neighbourhood. 

It was very remarkable how many trees he now found covered withberries; he had never noticed such a number before. In one hedgerow, leafless though it was, he discovered a hawthorn-bush, and its smallblack berries, hard though they proved to be, formed by no means acontemptible luncheon, even after the softer scarlet ones he haddisposed of at breakfast. There was a mountain ash too, just on theother side of the hedge, upon the fruit of which this keen-eyedBlackbird made up his mind to regale himself at no very distant period. Altogether, his day, which had begun so unpromisingly, was a decidedsuccess, and that night, as he fluttered to rest in the ivy, and sawthe little silver stars peeping and twinkling at him through the warmgreen curtains of his canopy, he thought of all the little Robin'swise words. It was with a chirp of sincere thankfulness that hetucked his head under his wing. 

The next morning was sunny, but frosty and very cold. Before leaving theivy-bush, our Blackbird ate a few of the dark berries which clusteredthickly around him. They were not, perhaps, quite so good as the hollyor hawthorn berries, but still they were better than nothing at all. 

He then flew from the ivy to his favourite branch on the lime-tree, andhe was not a little pleased to find that his small red-breasted friendwas there before him. 

"Well, " quoth the Robin, as he paused in his carol to welcome hisfriend, "how do you find yourself this morning?"

"Better, " replied the Blackbird, "much better. " He then gave the Robinan account of all his experiences of the day before, and observed howcurious it was that in one short day he should have discovered so manynew kinds of berries. 

"It is remarkable indeed, " said the Robin: "now I wonder what my oldfriend the Rook up there would have to say about it. "

The Rook was at that very moment sailing in slow circles round the topof a neighbouring elm-tree. For centuries he and his ancestors had builttheir nests in the particular avenue of elms of which this tree was oneof the tallest. It so happened that the Rook was just starting off forhis morning constitutional, and as he finished his round, and then sweptslowly across the meadow below, very deliberately flapping his greatdusky wings, he came in sight of the lime-tree on which the Robin wasperched. 

Out flew the Robin, and then back again to attract the Rook's attention. When the Rook saw this, he slowly gathered in his wings and swunghimself on to a branch close to his little friend. 

He certainly was a very sedate, and even solemn-looking gentleman, atleast so thought the Blackbird. His plumage was anything but bright andglossy, in fact it looked very shabby indeed, as if he had worn it forsome seasons without a change, and had been out in much rough weather. His dark eyes were relieved by no merry twinkle; then there were smallbare patches (which were not over beautiful) on his neck; and his voicewas exceedingly hoarse and unmusical. But notwithstanding all this, there was a certain quiet dignity, and an air of ripe wisdom about theold bird which much impressed our hero, and made him listen with respectto whatever words of wisdom fell from the blue beak, although they wereuttered in rather a croaky tone. 

After the usual "good mornings" had passed, and the Blackbird had beenpresented in due form to the Rook, the Robin said, "How comes it, Mr. Rook, that there are so many new berries on the bushes?"

"You ask how it is, my little friend, " said the Rook, kindly; "well, Iwill tell you. Just now, when no insects can be had, what should we alldo if we had no berries? Now that the leaves have all fallen, we canfind the berries much more easily. Many of them were there already, onlyyou didn't see them. They are provided for us by our Heavenly Father. Aseach season comes round, God gives us the fruits of that season, andwhen one kind of food fails, He provides us with another. I am an oldbird, " continued the Rook, "but I've never known the seasons to fail. Wedo not 'sow, nor do we gather into barns, ' but still 'God feeds us. ' Ialways look forward, and hopefully too, to every season as itcomes--Spring, --Summer, --Autumn, --Winter, --and, my young friends, youwill be wise to do the same, for, do you know, this trustful feeling iscalled 'faith. '"

The Rook then shut his learned beak, and opened and spread his wideblack wings, and slowly sailed away, leaving the Blackbird and the Robinto meditate on all that he had been telling them. At last the Robinbroke silence with "Have you breakfasted?"

"Yes, I have, " replied the Blackbird, "on a few poor ivy-berries, butI'm still rather hungry. "

"Then come with me, " said the Robin, "and you shall soon have a rightgood feast. " Off the birds flew, and swiftly passed over one or twosnow-covered fields, and then by a long avenue of lime-trees. They cameat last to a level lawn, at the end of which stood an old gabledmansion, built of gray stone; ivy climbed round the pillars of an arcadeat the east end of the house, and ivy covered the west corner. Thetime-stained gables, surmounted by round stone balls, stood out in thesunshine, and the dark tiles of the roof peeped out here and there fromtheir snowy covering. The two friends flew to the west side of themansion, which overlooked a smooth grassy terrace and garden. Beyond wasa lake, and then came a wood behind which the sun sank, each evening, torest. Gray gables rose on this side of the house also, and there was alarge bay window which the Blackbird soon discovered to be the window ofthe dining-room. There were some thick laurel-bushes beyond this window, to which the two birds flew, and then they stopped to rest and lookabout them. The Blackbird gazed admiringly at the old house, and withespecial interest at the bay window. 

Standing there was quite the dearest little couple he had ever seen, alittle girl and boy. 

The boy was a brave little man of about four years of age, with two darkeyes, and thick curly brown hair. His face was positively brimming overwith fun and mischief. Standing by his side, and clasping his hand withplump little fingers, was a little girl of some two and a half years. She had a round baby face, gray eyes, and the sweet bloom of babyhoodwas on her cheek. Her eyes had that wondering, far-away look, which isso very bewitching in quite little children, and her small rosy mouthshowed some very white teeth, especially when she laughed, which was notby any means seldom. 

It was evident that these little ones were waiting for something ofinterest, for they stood very patiently, and their eyes were fixed onthe grass beneath the fir-trees. At the moment we are describing theredbreast flew from one laurel-bush to another, and then with a shout ofdelight, the little children suddenly disappeared from the window. In aminute however they were back again with faces full of expectation andimportance, bearing between them a plate of bread which had beencarefully broken into small pieces. 

One of the large windows, which opened to the ground, was then flungback, and the little boy, advancing carefully, scattered the crumbs onthe gravel path just beyond the window. The window was then softlyclosed, and hand-in-hand the little children stood still to watch. Theopening and shutting of the window had frightened the Blackbird; he hadflown to a more distant bush; but as the more courageous Robin onlyfluttered about for a moment, the Blackbird soon came back, and in lessthan a minute the Robin was upon the gravel path hard at work picking upthe dainty white crumbs. The Blackbird still hesitated on the laurelbranch, loth to remain, yet fearful to advance, but at last, impelled bya sudden pang of hunger, he ventured to join his red-breasted friend. 

It was a most luxurious repast; never before had the Blackbird tastedfood half so delicious. It is true that he got one or two frights, foronce the little girl was so delighted at the sight of both birdsdevouring the crumbs, that she banged her little fat hands against thewindow-pane, dancing at the same time with delight. This gambol fairlystartled their feathered guests, and frightened them away for a minuteor two, but they were soon back again, and then the Blackbird saw thatthe boy was carefully holding his sister's hands to keep her quiet. 

Each morning found the little eager faces waiting at the window, andeach morning also found the two expectant birds perched on thelaurel-bushes. The feathered company was soon swelled by the arrival ofsome impudent and very quarrelsome sparrows, a pair of chaffinches, anda darling little blue titmouse, who, with his cousin a cole-titmouse, soon became quite at their ease. By common consent all the other birdsavoided the sparrows. "They are common, idle creatures, you know, " saidthe Robin, "and none of us care to associate with such low, vulgarbirds. "

The Blackbird, through the kindness of his little friend the Robin, soongot acquainted with many other birds, and indeed he grew quite intimatewith a gaily apparelled Goldfinch. However, notwithstanding all this, the Blackbird found it difficult to make friends, and could never bequite so much at his ease as his more sociable red-breasted companion. 

One day the Robin confided to the Blackbird a great discovery that heand the Goldfinch had made. They had come upon a large barn, and there, close to the roof, they had found a small hole. It was very smallindeed, but, after some hesitation, they had squeezed through it, andhad found themselves in a large room filled with huge sacks of corn, oats and barley. Their delight at this discovery was not to bedescribed, any more than the feast they subsequently made. Mice, andeven rats, were scampering about in every direction, gnawing holes inthe sacks, and getting into all manner of mischief. 

"We were afraid of the rats at first, " said the Robin, "but we soonfound that they were much too busy to trouble their heads about us. TheGoldfinch is very anxious that the sparrows should not find out thisbarn. They are greedy and quarrelsome, and would keep it all tothemselves, and try to turn us out. "

The Blackbird soon found his way to the corn sacks, but he and hisfriends were uncommonly circumspect whenever they met any sparrows. They would even pretend that they were going in quite anotherdirection; they would fly straight by the barn, and then waitpatiently in a neighbouring tree or hedgerow, and not return till theywere certain of not being noticed. 

It must be confessed that the process of squeezing through the smalldark hole was not altogether an agreeable arrangement, it sadlydisturbed our smart friend's smooth, glossy feathers. The mice too, tosay nothing of the rats, were not congenial companions. But the cornwas so good that it made amends for all these drawbacks. 

Thus the winter passed by very happily, and what with the berries, redand black, the corn, and best of all, the crumbs, the Blackbird neverwanted for food. 

Not the least pleasant part of the day was the morning, when he paid hisvisit to the bay window, where the little children were always ready forhim. No wonder he grew very fond of them, and soon learnt their names, "_Willie_" and "_Alice_, " which he would often repeat to himself as hefell asleep in the ivy, and thought of the little boy and girl fastasleep too, and of the happy meeting which they were all looking forwardto in the morning. 

END OF CHIRP THE FIRST. 

CHIRP THE SECOND. 

SPRING. 

The days were certainly becoming longer and less cold, the snow hadaltogether disappeared, and somehow the sun seemed, to the Blackbird, toget up earlier and go to bed later. He noticed also, about this time, that little shaft-like leaves were beginning to peep through the grass, and that the beech and hazel twigs were swelling into small knobs. Healso felt that there was something different in himself--a change--hewas stronger and happier, and he was seized with an irresistible desireto sing. The hoarseness which had tried him so much during the wintermonths had gone, and his throat was once more clear. 

A week passed by, the little knobs on the trees began to open anddiscover small, tender leaves, and between the green spear-like shootsin the grass delicate stems had come up bearing white drooping flowers. 

One morning the Blackbird discussed all these changes with the Robin;and the Rook, who happened to be flying by, was called in to assist attheir council. 

"You are surprised at all these changes, my young friends, " he said;"did I not tell you that the seasons never fail? This is the Spring, thetime when everything comes forth to new life. The snow has overspreadthe earth and kept it warm all these months. It has covered the bulbs ofthe snowdrops, those white flowers that you so greatly admire, friendBlackbird. It covered them up carefully till the proper time arrivedthat they should spring forth. In the same way the buds on the treeshave been wrapped up in their brown coats and kept warm during thebitter winter weather, and now that the sun is once more shining, thesaid brown coats are beginning to drop off, for the little green leavesare pushing their way into the world of warmth and sunshine. And then, not the least interesting change, your song has once more returned toyou, the woods are full of sweet music, --ay, and you will see yetgreater wonders, for truly 'the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land. '"

Yes, the Rook was quite right; each day now brought about some freshwonder--a few more green leaves, a few more white flowers; and presentlybetween the snowdrop plants came up the slender green leaves, and thegold and purple blossoms of the crocus. 

About this time, too, the Blackbird noticed that many of his featheredfriends were unusually busy. They seemed to have no time for talk. Hemet them flying hither and thither with feathers, small pieces of straw, or twigs, in their beaks. About this time also, the Blackbird himselffelt a strong desire to have a nest of his own. But how could he buildit by himself? He must find a partner to share his labours--and wherecould he find such a partner? He was almost in despair, so at last hedetermined to pour out his desire in song, as he perched one morning onthe branch of a budding hawthorn. 

He sang his sweetest, his very best, and as the song was borne along onthe bright morning air, and then died away, he became aware of a tenderlittle note, a faint twitter which came from a branch immediatelybeneath him. He looked down, and, lo and behold, there, half concealedby spreading boughs, was a bird like himself, another Blackbird! Thisstranger Blackbird was very attractive-looking, but its plumage was notquite so bright or black as his own. Its bill, too, was more brown thanyellow, and the orange streaks round the eyes were of a greenish hue. But notwithstanding these slight differences, the bird which now hoppeddown on the grass, and answered his song by if possible a sweeterwarble, was both handsome and winning. The Blackbird was delighted tohave thus found so immediate a response to his petition, and he was verysoon on the grass beside the interesting stranger. On nearer approach hefound that this Blackbird had gentle eyes, and was indeed altogethervery bewitching, so without any hesitation he proposed that they shouldbuild a nest together! His offer was shyly accepted, and then came theimportant question, where to build?

The Blackbird was anxious not to be too far from his little friendsWillie and Alice. They had been so kind to him during the winter, thathe would fain see something of them still, and sing them his bestsongs, now that he had his voice back again. He had watched them the daybefore, as they trotted hand-in-hand along the home-meadow where thesnowdrops and crocuses grew. They had pulled some of the white andyellow blossoms, and had then stood still to listen to the flute-likevoice of an unseen minstrel. Hand-in-hand they listened; the little boywith his large brown eyes fixed on the tree from whence came the song, the little girl with her baby-face uplifted, and one pink finger held upas much as to say "Hush! hush!"

The song ended, the Blackbird flew out from the shelter of the thickfir-tree where he had been concealed, and winged his way across themeadow. 

"Our Blackbird!" cried the little boy, exultingly. "Our Blackbird!"

"Dicky! dicky!" shouted the little girl, and then they ran homedelighted. 

Yes, this songster was their own particular Blackbird, there was nodoubt about it; and did it not behove him to build his nest as neartheir home as he possibly could?

After a short consultation, the pair of Blackbirds set off on anexploring expedition. First of all they carefully examined the ivy whichcovered an old wall near the stables: but they did not consider thestems of the ivy were quite strong enough to support their nest. Theythen looked at some laurel-bushes. But no, these would not do. Theposition was too exposed, the branches were much too far apart, theirnest would soon be discovered. Then a very compact little evergreen bushon the lawn in front of the old house caught their eyes. It was thickand well grown, every branch was covered, so that a nest could not beseen by the passers-by. Yes, it was the very place for them, there theymight build in security, and at the same time watch their dear littlefriends as they went out and about each day. They carefully inspectedeach bough of the said bush, and then, having chosen a spot at the lowerend of a branch where it joined the main stem, they set to work to buildin right good earnest. Small twigs, the waifs and strays of last autumn, strewed the ground in a little wilderness hard by, and thither theBlackbirds repaired. Hour after hour both might be seen flittingbetween the wood and their chosen bush, with twigs in their yellowbeaks. These they neatly laid on the branch, and then twisted them inand out, and round and round each other, and then a little moss and afew soft fibres were added to the harder twigs. The whole fabric soonbegan to assume a round, nest-like appearance. It grew fair and shapely, and the exultant Blackbird paused to pour forth a "clear, mellow, boldsong, " as he alighted for a moment on the summit of the Deodor. Then heand his gentle partner, feeling the "keen demands of appetite, "determined to go and refresh themselves with some food, and theyrepaired to a field not very far off. 

There they found the Rook hopping along the freshly-turned furrows, eagerly picking up the grubs which had been brought to the surface bythe plough-share. The repast did not look very inviting, --those small, gray grubs! But it was the Rook's favourite food, and the farmers werenot sorry that he and his feathered friends should make a meal of thatsame gray grub, for these insects sometimes destroy whole acres ofgrass. They bury themselves in the turf, and then it turns brown anddies. These grubs are mischievous indeed, --after remaining for sometime in the grub state, they change into cockchafers, and even then theyare by no means agreeable visitors. 

"Good morning, my friend, " said the polite old Rook, "this is a verypleasant change of food after the hard winter berries, isn't it?"

"Indeed, it is, " replied the Blackbird, picking up a grub, "but I likebetter feeding near the hedgerows; however, this isn't bad after a hardday's work. "

"Oh, you are house building, are you?" said the Rook. "I hope you havechosen wisely, and got a good mate to work with you, one who isindustrious and affectionate. "

"I think I have, " said the Blackbird, with a certain amount of properpride; "but you shall judge for yourself, " he added, as he presented hisyoung wife to the Rook. The Rook made a quaint sort of movement with hishead, which, probably among birds, passed for a very grave and politebow, and after looking at her for a few moments, he nodded hisapproval. 

"We are all rather sad to-day, " said the Rook, after a few moments ofsilence; "we have just lost a very dear friend--indeed a cousin ofmine. " The Blackbird looked grave and sympathetic, and the Rookcontinued, "He started off yesterday evening to get some supper, andfound his way to some grass-land which was being destroyed by thesemischievous little grubs; he was busy pecking away at them, when all ofa sudden we, who were in a tree hard by, heard a fearful noise, and sawa great deal of smoke. In another moment, as the smoke cleared away, wesaw my poor cousin lying on the ground. He was quite dead; a youngfarmer had shot him with a terrible gun, thinking he was doing mischief;the stupid fellow little knew what good service my cousin was engagedupon in eating those grubs. This affair has made us all very sadindeed, " said the Rook, with a little extra huskiness in his voice:"poor fellow, he had just begun building his first nest, and his youngwidow is completely broken hearted. "

The Blackbird was very grieved for his friend's trouble, and he feltrather uncomfortable besides, for it occurred to him that the samewretched man might very likely shoot him some evening, and then whatwould become of _his_ little wife? He therefore prepared to fly off, butbefore doing so he said, "I hope we sha'n't be shot also, for thesegrubs are easier food to get at than the snails. I got hold of somesnails this very morning, and my bill still aches with the trouble theygave me. I dropped them on the stones to break them, but one, and he wasa fat fellow too, was so obstinate he would neither come out of hisshell, nor could I crack it. So after ten minutes hard work I wasobliged to leave the rascal. They are stubborn creatures, these snails, "said the Blackbird, with a groan that expressed his deep sense ofinjury. 

"_That_ they are, " replied the Rook, "and they ought to be taughtbetter. "

A few days more went by and then the nest in the evergreen bush wascompleted. The inside walls, which were of mud, had been perhaps themost difficult part of the building, for although the Blackbirds wouldvery often start off with a nice piece of soft mud in their beaks, itwould get dry, in a very tiresome manner, before they could reach thenest, and it then crumbled to pieces as they tried to plaster it on thetwigs. The birds persevered, however, and the mud walls were at lastsubstantially built, and to crown the whole, a lining of soft grass wasadded. 

The Blackbird was so over-joyed when the nest was finished, that, aftercarefully examining it outside to see that each twig was in its properplace, and looking at the neatly finished interior, he flew off to thelaurel-bushes by the bay window and sang a song of such surpassingecstasy that two little brown heads soon made their appearance at abed-room window to listen. The little figures were clothed in long whitenight-dresses, for they were just going to bed, but they could not misssuch a song. I am sure that if it could have been interpreted it wouldhave proved to be a chant of joy and praise. The nest was completed, thehome was ready!

That night as long brown lashes sank over soft sleepy eyes the littleheads that belonged to them were still thinking of that jubilant carol, and about the same time, under the shelter of the ivy leaves, two otherand much smaller heads were full of dreams of the future, of thenewly-built home in the evergreen, and of all that new home might mean. 

Some two days after this the Blackbird happened to be perched on thebranch of a dark fir-tree. His young mate had been for some time sittingsteadily on the nest in the evergreen bush. To amuse her he had sungsome of his sweetest songs. He could not see her very distinctly throughthe thick branches, so he thought he would just go and have a look ather. He flew to the bush, and there was a sight which, for a moment, made him feel almost breathless. His mate was perched on the bough abovethe nest, but what was that in the nest below?

Down in its very centre lay a round, smooth, pale blue object, shadedwith light green, and marked at one end with reddish brown spots. Thereit lay securely, snugly; and it looked very fresh and beautiful. TheBlackbird hopped nearer. What could it be? Was it really an egg? Yes, itwas indeed an egg! His delight was so great that he could only expressit in song, and the deep flute-like notes sounded from the little bushquite late into the twilight of that evening. 

A few more days saw four eggs added to the first. Yes, five little blueballs now lay side by side. As his industrious little wife flew off toget supper the evening that the last egg was laid, the happy Blackbirdperched himself on the very top of the bush, to guard the nest and singhis evening song. He had not been there very long when he heard a doorbang, and presently from under the old porch came the dear little couplehe loved so well, the little one in her white frock and white hat, theother in his sailor's suit. 

They ran together across the grass, but stopped suddenly as they heardthe Blackbird's note, and the Blackbird as suddenly ceased singing, forhow terrible would it be if they should discover his nest and all histreasures!

The sharp eyes of the little boy had already espied him, and the littlefeet scampered lightly over the ground. The poor Blackbird's heart sankwithin him. Nearer, still nearer came the brother and sister, and atlast they stopped close by the bush. The Blackbird rose into the airwith a shrill, scared cry, and then settled again. Would they hurt him?Could they be so cruel as to rob him of his treasures?

"He _must_ have a nest somewhere, " said the little boy, as he peepedcautiously into the bush. 

What was that dark thing on the bough above? The little fellow clappedhis hands, wild with excitement. "A nest! a nest!" he cried. The littlegirl fairly danced with delight. Then the boy slowly put out his handand caught the bough, and carefully bent it towards him. All this timetwo black eyes were watching with intense anxiety from the tree-top. 

Would the eggs fall out and be broken? would the nest be robbed?

"One, two, three, four, five, " counted the little boy slowly, while apoor palpitating heart counted each moment. How long those momentsseemed!

The little boy still held the bough in his grasp, the nest was on oneside, he stretched out his eager little hand. 

The Blackbird scarcely breathed. The boy's fingers were over the nest;they nearly closed on one of the eggs. Then he suddenly drew back, "No, no, Alice, " he said, "Mamma says I must never rob the poor birds. Wewon't rob our own Blackbird. "

Then the branch was slowly released and returned to its place, and thelittle fellow, who with no small amount of self-denial had conquered theintense desire to take the eggs, stood still gazing at the bush. LittleMiss Alice now made signs that she wished to be lifted up to see intothe nest, and with no small difficulty her sturdy young brother obligedher. 

"Look, Alice, pretty eggs; but we mustn't touch, and we mustn't tell anyone. "

At that moment the front door of the old manor house again opened, andthis time a voice called, "Master Willie, Miss Alice, wherever have yougot to?"

At hearing this sudden appeal, Willie dropped his little sister, bothbecause her weight was rather more than he could well support, andbecause he was afraid that "Nanny" might find out what they were doing. However, as Alice fell on the grass she was not hurt. Willie quicklyhelped her up, and, as they ran towards the house, the Blackbird heardWillie say, "We won't tell any one about our nest, will we? It's a greatsecret. "

It was some time before the poor bird recovered from his terriblefright. His little heart beat very fast, and when his wife returned, andhe told her all about the children's visit, it was with bated andoften-interrupted breath. 

That night his sleep was disturbed by very unpleasant dreams. He hadvisions of numbers of little boys who kept coming to look at his nest, and who pulled the bough down to the ground. Then he saw the eggsrolling out slowly one after the other on to the lawn. And then he wouldwake with a start to find that after all it was only a dream, and wouldsee the bright moonlight shining on the dewy grass, and hear afar offthe hoarse trill of the night-jar, or the boding screech of the greatwhite owl. 

All that night he could not help feeling nervous, and he was very gladindeed when the first streaks of dawn became visible in the far east. Itwas a bright spring morning, and as he and his sprightly little wifehopped nimbly about on the daisy-spangled lawn, ere the dew haddisappeared from the little pink and white flowers, and as they here andthere picked up a worm or an insect, he felt wonderfully refreshed, indeed by the time he had taken his morning bath, and had plumed hisfeathers, he was quite himself again. 

The thirteen days which now followed were very important ones; for, during that time, our Blackbird's patient young wife sat almostuninterruptedly upon her nest. She stole away for a few moments to theneighbouring hedgerows for breakfast or dinner; but she was never happytill she was back again to her precious charge. 

It was at this time that the Blackbird poured forth his very best music. He had never sung so many nor such varied songs before; now that hispartner could not go about with him, he had so much to tell her of hisrambles and of course he told it all in song. 

He did not always perch on their own bush. He was afraid that if he didso he might attract too much attention, but from the bough of any treeclose at hand he cheered her heart with his beautiful melodies. 

[Illustration: THE ROBIN'S NEST. ]

Then it was that he told his wife of the green hedgerows where thegolden, star-shaped blossoms of the celandine were luxuriant, and wherethe shy primroses were just beginning to show their pale heads. He wouldsing of the blackthorn whose snowy blooms were then just peeping out, and of the hawthorn already covered with its tender green leaves. Hetold her, and this was a profound secret, of the nest of their goodfriend, the Robin, which was very cunningly concealed at the top of theivy. It was a soft, cosy little nest, not plastered with mud astheirs was, but lined with silky hair. The Robin had shown him fivelittle pale eggs, white spotted with brown, at the bottom of the nest, half hidden by the soft hair. 

The Blackbird had also come across a most remarkable nest, that of thegolden-crested wren. "My old friend, the Rook, tells me, " said theBlackbird, "that this wren is the very smallest of our birds. Hecertainly is a great beauty with his crown of golden feathers. His nestis in yonder yew-tree. It seems large for a bird of his size. It isalmost entirely built of moss, and, can you believe it, the wren usesspider's webs to bind it together! It seemed to be hanging from thebough, and was so well hidden by another bough, that I did not see ituntil I had flown quite into the middle of the tree. The opening in thenest is so small, I don't believe you could have got even your littlehead in; but I had a good peep, and saw its lining of soft warmfeathers, and counted ten of the palest, tiniest eggs you can possiblyimagine. "

The following day the Blackbird had other tidings for his wife. He hadbeen to a stream in the neighbourhood, --the Brawl. Its banks were gaywith marsh marigolds, and while he was hopping and frisking aboutthere, he had met a very curious-looking bird, a ring-ousel. Thiscreature was rather shy and had not long arrived from the south, wherehe usually spent the winter. He was a pretty fellow, with black plumageand a white crescent round his throat, and his song was very sweetindeed. He had few relations in England, for he was what folks call arare bird, and the Blackbird was sorry for it, for he thought him bothpretty and attractive. 

The following day the Blackbird had a long talk with the Rook. Thelatter was perched on an elm, whose leaves were just beginning to burstforth, and it was there that the Blackbird joined him. Rooks' nests, made of rough-looking sticks, many of them containing one or more blueeggs, were to be seen dotted here and there along the avenue of elms, and the cawing and the gossip, to say nothing of the quarrelling, wasalmost deafening. The Blackbird settled on a bough close to the Rook, and as he did so he noticed some swallows skimming over the lawn farbelow them. They were beautiful birds, their blue-black plumage glintedin the sunshine, and now and then a quick turn displayed their brownthroats and white breasts. They were darting hither and thither, sorapidly that the eye could hardly follow them, catching the many-wingedinsects as they flew by. Then they would suddenly dart off to thetopmost gables of the old mansion, where their compact mud nests couldbe plainly seen against the dark gray stones. 

"I remember, " said the Blackbird, "watching those swallows a long, longtime ago, when I was quite a fledgeling; but I haven't seen one all thewinter. Where can they have been all this time?"

"Oh, " replied the Rook, "the swallows are most curious and interestingcreatures. When October comes they assemble from all parts of GreatBritain and then start forth on a long journey across the wide seas topass the winter in sunnier and warmer countries. When April returns theyall come back again, --from the palms of Africa, over the olives of Italyand the oaks of Spain--back across the seas they come to us. It is herethat they build their nests and rear their young ones, but only to flyaway again in the autumn. Truly, these swallows are wonderfultravellers. "

"How nice it must be to spend the winter in a warm, sunny place, "remarked the Blackbird, enviously. 

"Well, I don't know, " retorted the Rook; "think of the long, longjourney! Think of the miles and miles of ocean to be crossed, think ofthe weary wings, think of the poor breathless birds. They often perch torest a while on the passing ships, and they often get knocked down andkilled. Then again, just think how they must suffer from the cold herein England, after the warm climates they have wintered in. No, dependupon it, " said the Rook, shaking his head wisely, "it's far better tospend the winter here at home and get healthy and hardy. There are manynights when you and I are warm and comfortable that these unhappyswallows are crouched shivering under the eaves. In my humble opinionthere's nothing like England, dear old England, for English birds. "

You see this old Rook was very patriotic, and of course a great Tory toboot. He disliked change of every sort and kind. He, and his ancestorsbefore him, had built in these same elm-trees, since the first graystone of the old mansion had been laid. From these same trees, fromgeneration to generation, they had watched the sun rise and set duringthe stormy days of winter and the sunny days of summer. They had notedthe seasons as they came and went, enjoying the fruits and the joys ofeach, and when any rook was cut off by death, it was generally old agethat killed him, --unless it were that occasionally a youngster, moreenterprising than prudent, would lean out of his nest to see the worldaround him, and what was going on there, and then a sudden rush of hissmall body through the air, and a thud at the foot of the tree, wouldtell of the premature decease of a promising rooklet. Yes, "Old Englandfor ever!" was still the watchword of the rooks. 

"Certainly it is very delightful just now, " said the Blackbird, lookinground him. Delicate young leaves were bursting forth on every side;primroses, anemones, and even a few early cowslips were peering throughthe grass below, the sun was shining, and the woods were filled with achorus of song. 

"Yes indeed, " said the Rook solemnly "'the stork in the heavens knowethher appointed time, and the turtle, and the crane, and the swallowobserve the time of their coming. '"

This conversation, and all his other talks and small adventures, werefaithfully reported to the home-tied wife. His voice beguiled the manyweary hours during which she patiently sat on her nest. 

It was thus that matters went on until towards the end of the thirteenthday, when certain mysterious sounds were heard to proceed from the nest, faint peckings, which would cease and then begin again. One day, whilehis wife was taking her mid-day meal, the Blackbird hopped close to thenest, and put his head over the side, and as he watched and listened, loand behold, through a slight crack in the blue shell of one of the eggspeeped a very tiny beak!

It was very marvellous! This beak moved backwards and forwards, and inand out, and gradually, the crack becoming larger, a small featherlesshead emerged. Yes, so it was; and before sunset the following day fivecallow little birds lay huddled together in the nest, and although theywere his own sons and daughters, it must be confessed that the Blackbirdcould not help thinking them remarkably ugly. They had very few featherson their poor naked little bodies, their heads appeared to be of anenormous and disproportionate size, --and then, their mouths!

As they squatted in the nest with their five mouths opened to theirwidest, displaying five red throats, the Blackbird thought that neverbefore in all his long life had he seen anything so frightful. How suchenormous creatures had ever come out of those five pretty little eggs hecould not imagine. However, he had no time for reflection, for what onearth did those eager little monsters mean by gaping at him like that?

At last it occurred to him that they might be hungry, and thereupon heand his wife set off to pick up small worms and insects for them. TheBlackbird fancied that being so very young they would require delicatefeeding, but this proved to be an entire mistake. Never before had hethought it possible that such small bodies could dispose of so muchfood. From morning to night, and almost from night to morning, he andhis poor wife were to be seen flying backwards and forwards conveyingprovisions to the nest. 

However, none of the brood ever seemed to be satisfied. Five mouthsalways opened wide when the Blackbird returned, although he could onlyfeed one at a time, and he never, for the life of him, could rememberwhich he had fed last. 

Worms, grubs, caterpillars, insects, all found their way to the littlegaping mouths, --nothing came amiss, until the Blackbird felt that if itwent on much longer there would be no insects left in the whole country, and that his young ones would certainly die of indigestion. However, thelittle birds flourished, and grew apace, and each night as the Blackbirddrew in his wings for a few short hours of rest, he wondered when thebrood would be old enough to feed themselves, for he looked forward, andwith no small longing, to that time of rest. 

END OF CHIRP THE SECOND. 

CHIRP THE THIRD. 

SUMMER. 

It is not to be supposed that our little friends Willie and Alice madebut that one visit to the Blackbird's nest. No, at some hour or other ofeach day the small couple stole across the lawn to peep at the mother asshe sat on her nest. At first, the birds were rather alarmed by thesevisitations, but they soon grew accustomed to them, more especially whenthey found that their young friends meant no harm. 

One morning, on going to the nest, Willie was very much surprised tofind that a wonderful change had taken place. The pretty little blueeggs had disappeared, and behold, in their place were five callow, gaping creatures! Alice was also very much interested, and it was butnatural that she should insist upon seeing what excited her brother somuch. Willie, therefore, after considerable difficulty, raised hersufficiently high to let her have a good look at the funny little heads. At the sight of them, Alice kicked her little feet with joy, whichcaused her to slip quickly through Willie's arms on to the grass. Herfresh white frock was a good deal tumbled in consequence, and her hathad fallen off in the scramble. 

At this critical moment their nurse, Mrs. Barlow, appeared on the scene. "Master Willie! Master Willie!" she called, "how often I've told you notto lift Miss Alice. She's a deal too heavy for you; and look how you'vetumbled her clean white frock. There'll be an accident some day, or myname's not Barlow. I won't have you dragging her about the country inthis way; before you've done you'll make a regular tom-boy of her, and, bless her heart, she's a real delicate little lady. "

Master Willie tried to look penitent, and he secretly hoped theirbeloved nest would not be discovered. However, the nurse had hersuspicions of their bush, so she walked straight up to it and then roundit. 

"Well, I do declare, " she said at last, "there's a nest, and that's whatyou've been after, is it? Well, of all the nasty, horrid little thingsthat ever I saw these birds are the nastiest. Bless me, I wonder now howthey get along, and no nurse to look after them. "

_What fun they must have_, was Willie's secret thought. They could roveabout the country at their "own sweet will, " and never think abouttumbling their clothes. But then he remembered that the birds hadn't gotany clothes to speak of, and that, as yet, they couldn't even fly. Hetherefore began to wonder how they did manage without a nurse, andthought he should like to try, just for a week or two, how _he_ couldget along without one. What climbings, delightful wanderings, andgeneral mischief presented themselves to his childish imagination!_what_ fun he and Alice would have!

"Whatever bird is it?" said the nurse. 

"_Our_ Blackbird, " replied Willie, with an air of considerableimportance. 

"_Your_ Blackbird!" she said; "why, whatever does the child mean? Well, anyhow, the gardener will soon make short work of the Blackbirds, nastymischievous things!--why, they eat up all the fruit, and destroy theflowers. "

"Oh, Nanny, " cried the little boy sadly, "don't say that, our Blackbirdis so good, he sings beautifully, and we are so fond of him. Thegardener mustn't kill our Blackbird. " Tears stood in the soft browneyes, and Nanny, who was really a kind-hearted woman, hastened to saythat she didn't at all suppose that that particular Blackbird would bekilled, it was only that birds in general were such destructivecreatures, that the fewer of them there were left about, the better. 

Willie, however, was not altogether consoled, and he could not helpfeeling that Nanny was not so sympathetic as she might be about his dearBlackbird. Still he hoped for the best, and determined, at the veryearliest opportunity, to entreat the gardener to spare every Blackbird, young and old, for the sake of his particular friend. 

All this had happened in the spring, some months before, and it was nowJuly. The young Blackbirds, hatched in April, had been out and abroad inthe world some weeks. They were not yet quite full grown, and stilldepended upon their parents for help and advice. The parent birds, however, had not a little to do, for by this time they had hatched asecond brood, and, just now, these last required their constantattention, although they hoped that by the end of the month their youngones would be able to fly a little. This brood had proved morerefractory than the first one, and they were continually getting intotrouble and mischief. One of them tumbled into a pool of water, and wasas nearly as possible drowned; another was pursued by a cat and had hisleg very much hurt; while a third, alas! a poor little fellow, tumbledright out of the nest one morning, fell on the hard ground, and neverbreathed again. 

But although the Blackbird had his troubles, and serious ones they weretoo, the beauty and luxuriance of the season rejoiced his heart. Thecountry was in its richest summer garb, even the porch of the old gabledhouse was covered with pale pink roses. A splendid yellow rose, a_Gloire de Dijon_, clustered round the library window, and a white rosepeeped in at the drawing-room. White and yellow jasmin, varied here andthere by clusters of deep crimson roses, covered the west side of thehouse and the old bay window, and the garden below was gay withbright-coloured flower-beds. 

Every tree was in full foliage, and the avenue of limes was sweet withsmall white blossoms, and musical with the murmur of myriads ofcontented bees, who found some of their sweetest nectar there. Thenewly-mown hay was falling on all sides, and the trees gave a verygrateful shade to the tired haymakers during the noon-tide heat. 

The spot, however, which most attracted the Blackbirds, was the kitchengarden. What ripe red strawberries were hidden away under the thickleaves on the long slope of the upper garden! what cool greengooseberries, and what a variety of currants, were fast ripening in thelower garden! The Blackbird would often retire with one or two of hisyoung people to this favoured region. They would first settle themselvesat the strawberry-bed, though it must be confessed that this part of thefeast was attended with some peril. They felt a certain degree ofnervousness, a sense of insecurity, for a horrid net had been stretchedover this particular bed, and sometimes the dark feathered heads gotcaught in it. 

One day the Blackbird had a most terrible fright. He and his wife, andsome of the young ones, had been hard at work on the ripe strawberries. They had been so busy that they did not hear stealthy footstepsapproaching on the sandy gravel till they were quite close to them. Thenthe birds rose in the air, with shrill cries of alarm, all except_Mamma_ Blackbird, who somehow could not get her head from under thenet. She struggled desperately; the gardener was now close upon her. Thepoor bird, wild with alarm, fluttered backwards and forwards, till atlast by a supreme effort, she freed herself and fled away, very muchscared, but rejoicing in her liberty. This affair gave all the family afearful shock, and it was some days before they dared to re-visit thestrawberry-bed. 

All things considered, though, the strawberries were very good, thebirds preferred the lower garden, where they could hop comfortably andsecurely under the gooseberry and currant bushes. There were no netsthere, and the gardener could not pounce down upon them through thosestiff thorny bushes; they could feast on the small, red gooseberries, and then, for a change, pass on to the smooth yellowish ones. Their mealgenerally ended by a visit to a certain bush where the clusters of whitecurrants hung conveniently near the ground. 

There was one spot, however, which was perhaps the most attractive ofall. On the south side of the garden flourished an old cherry-tree whichbore on its wide spreading arms "white hearts" of the very finestquality and flavour. This was a secret corner to which the birdsrepaired at eventide, and where, curiously enough, the gardener neversuspected them of trespassing. 

One bright July morning the Blackbird noticed a most unusual stir at theold mansion. There was a good deal of running about, to and fro, and inand out. The dairymaid paid a great many visits to the dairy, and othermaids might be seen hurrying in all directions. The small brother andsister had more than once trotted out on the lawn to look at the sky, and make sure that it was not raining. 

When the Blackbird happened to fly across the garden he was still morepuzzled. Two gardeners with large baskets were stooping over thestrawberry beds, hard at work, picking the last of the strawberries. Alas! there would be none left! Another gardener was walking down therows of raspberry-bushes, filling a capacious basket with the red andwhite berries. A small boy was collecting currants in another bulkyreceptacle, while two more were pulling quantities of gooseberries. Whatdid it all mean?

Later on in the day two large carts quite brimming over with rosy-facedgirls and boys passed through the yard, and on into the hay-field hardby. The little ones were soon seated in groups on the soft, sweet hay, and then the old mansion began to pour forth its inmates. 

Servant-maids appeared with their gowns tucked up, carrying large cansof hot tea, followed by men in livery with huge platters piled withplum-cake, and stacks of bread-and-butter; and last, but by no meansleast, the ancient housekeeper, and her special maids, with baskets offruit and jugs of rich golden cream. Then, last of all, from under theold porch, appeared the mother and father and their two children, ourWillie and Alice. Little Alice looked so fair and pretty in her whitefrock, blue sash, and blue shoes; and Willie's bright young face wasflushed with excitement and delight. 

Then the Blackbird began to suspect what it all meant. It was Willie'sbirthday; yes, he was five years old, and he had chosen, as his treat, that all the village children should be invited to tea in the hay-field. It was a great joy to Willie to hand round the cake and fruit, and towatch the little faces aglow with happiness. Willie and Alice, and eventheir mamma and papa, had tea in the hay-field, and Willie thought thatnever before had even strawberries and cream been quite so delicious. 

It was a lovely afternoon, and it was very pleasant to sit on thenewly-mown hay and listen to the birds singing in the trees. Ofcourse, the Blackbird could not resist going to see and, as far ashe could, share the fun, and he and his family had a private banquet oftheir own: for it so happened that one plate of fruit had been putbehind a little hay-cock and then overlooked and forgotten, and there, fearless of gardeners or nets, the Blackbirds devoured the last of thestrawberries. 

After tea games were proposed, and the merry voices could be heard in"blindman's buff, " and "drop the handkerchief, " until quite late intothe evening. By this time the fathers and mothers had arrived to lookafter their children and take them home, and many were the kind wordsand warm thanks expressed to Willie and Alice as their graceful littlefigures went in and out among the groups as they said "good night. "

At last little Alice was fairly tired out, so she was borne away byNurse Barlow, who announced it as her decided opinion that the childrenwould "get their deaths of cold, and both be laid up the next day. "

Poor Mrs. Barlow had not enjoyed her afternoon. She had been constantlyoccupied in trying to find Willie and Alice, for, as there were so manychildren scattered over the field, they had continually escaped hersearching eye. Once she had ruthlessly torn Alice away as she wasstanding between two rosy-cheeked, delighted village urchins, playing"drop the handkerchief. " Each of her little fair hands was clasped bythe strong brown fingers of a small village neighbour, and Alicevigorously resented being thus carried off. 

"The idea of her playing with them, " murmured Mrs. Barlow contemptuouslyas she carried her off. 

Not long afterwards a shout of triumph attracted her attention toanother part of the field, where she was certain "Master Willie" wouldbe found. "If there's mischief going on, " she said, "he's sure to be init;" and when she reached the spot, there he was sure enough, in hisbest clothes trying to climb the well-greased pole. As may be supposedhis intentions of reaching the top, and securing the prize, were quicklynipped in the bud, and he was obliged to make a more sudden descent thanhe had counted upon. 

Notwithstanding these slight interruptions, everything went off mostsatisfactorily, and all were sorry enough when the time arrived to saygood-bye. 

The children assembled in front of the old house, and sang a shorthymn--

 "We are but little children weak;"

and then they were marched off to their different homes, and Willie wentto bed, his thoughts full of the happy day they had had, and the wordsof the children's hymn still sounding in his ears. 

The Blackbird had thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon. There had been nodrawbacks. Although he had not been one of the invited guests, he feltsomehow that he had been welcome, and he was very pleased to have seenso much of his two young friends, and to have left them so happy. 

At this summer-time, it was a great pleasure to the Blackbird duringthe afternoon to perch on the limb of an old fir-tree on the lawn, andwatch the squirrels at their gambols. They would play long, longgames of hide and seek among the dark branches, and then, tired ofthat, they would chase each other from bough to bough, scattering thepine-cones, which dropped with a soft sound on the grass below. Little wagtails ran nimbly about the lawn uttering their shrill"quit, quit, " and catching as they ran the gnats and other insects. Thesmall dark heads of the swallows could be seen as they crouched andtwittered beneath the gables of the old mansion, and the distanttrickling of water made a soft accompaniment to these varied sounds. 

One afternoon when the Blackbird was thus perched on his favouritefir-branch he saw the old Rook sailing slowly by. He had not seen hisold friend for some time, so he gladly welcomed and joined him. Awaythey flew to a copse beyond the lake where hazels and alders grew. Abright, pebbly stream wound through this copse, babbling cheerily as itwent, and both birds alighted on an overhanging bough to watch the tinyfish as they poised and darted backwards and forwards. At a bend of thestream a little higher up, a brilliant-hued kingfisher was on the watch, and another bird of much soberer plumage was perched on a hazel boughbeyond. He had yellow legs, a long tail, and ashen-coloured plumagespotted with white, which attracted the Blackbird's attention, for hedid not remember ever to have seen him before. 

"Do you know that bird?" inquired the Blackbird, nodding in thedirection of the stranger. 

"Indeed I do, " replied the Rook, dryly; "but he's no friend of mine Iassure you. He's one of the laziest and most unprincipled of creatures. He has only one good point about him, that's his note, and you must knowthat well. His 'twofold shout' of _cuckoo_ is a welcome sound to everyone, for it tells us that Spring is here. As I said, however, that ishis only good point, --for, can you believe it? _he never builds anest!_"

"Never builds a nest!" exclaimed the Blackbird in astonishment, "thenwhere does he lay his eggs?"

"Why, " said the Rook, "the cuckoos have the impudence, the audacity, todrop them in the nest of some other bird, any nest that takes theirfancy. And that is not all. Not only does the cuckoo lay its egg in astranger's nest, but the unfortunate bird whose nest he has chosen hasnot only to sit on his egg, and hatch his great gawkey young one, buthas also to feed it, and rear it till it can take care of itself. Nicejob it is too, " said the Rook with disgust. "Then they are soknowing--ay, they're clever birds! Why they never lay their eggs in thenests of any of the Finches, because they are seed-feeding birds, andthe cuckoos know full well that their young ones would starve, because aseed-feeding bird wouldn't be able to rear them. Therefore they alwayschoose the nests of the insect-feeding birds, and they never make amistake. I wish they would sometimes, then there would be a few less ofthem! Those little pied wagtails, that you were watching on the lawnjust now, often have the honour thrust upon them of hatching and rearinga young cuckoo, as do also the hedge sparrow and the reed warbler. Thecuckoos are such cowards too, " continued the Rook, "that they sometimeslay their eggs in the poor little nest of quite a small bird who can'teven remonstrate with, much less fight them. Last Spring a vile cuckooactually laid her egg in a wren's nest, and the two poor little wrenshad to hatch and rear the young monster. You may fancy what hard work itwas, --it was nearly the death of them!"

The Blackbird groaned sympathetically, for he remembered his own laboursin that line. After a last glance at the kingfisher, the cuckoo, and thewinding stream, the two friends flew farther on, over "flowery meads"and shining woods. The hedges were purple with marshmallow and vetch, while in other places the blue heads of the succory, and the pink andwhite briar roses were luxuriant, not to speak of the pale bindweedwhich clung so affectionately round the slender stems of the hazels. 

The pair of friends alighted for a moment to gaze at all this summerwealth. 

"I _do_ wish it could always be summer, " sighed the Blackbird. 

"You'd soon get very tired of it if it were, " retorted the Rook, "andyou would not value the sunshine and flowers half so much if you alwayshad them. "

[Illustration: THE ROOK. ]

"Perhaps not, " said the Blackbird, gazing rather sentimentally at theclosing blossoms of the convolvulus, "perhaps not, but the flowers arevery lovely. "

"Yes, " said the Rook, gravely; "they toil not, neither do they spin, andyet we are assured that even the great King Solomon in all his glory'was not arrayed like one of these. ' The great God is over all Hisworks, friend Blackbird; nothing, however small or however insignificantit may be, is overlooked or forgotten by the Creator. "

After a few moments of silence the Blackbird said, "I must be goinghome; my young ones are not yet able to do without me. "

"Your young ones!" exclaimed the Rook, in a tone of surprise; and thenhe added, "Ah, you've had two broods, I suppose?"

"Yes, " replied the Blackbird, "and the last are still young. My firstare now quite grown up. "

"I once knew a relation of yours, " said the Rook, "who hatched threebroods in one year. "

"Dear me, " said the Blackbird in a tone of commiseration, "how exhaustedhe must have been by the time he had finished with his third family. "

"I have been told, and on the best possible authority too, " said theRook, rather mischievously, "of a pair of Blackbirds who had fourfamilies--"

"Oh, pray don't, " said the Blackbird, as he opened out his wings as iffor flight; "you make me feel quite nervous. "

The Rook gave a caw which he intended to be a sympathetic one, but therewas a little falter in it, which, had he been a human being instead of abird, might have been mistaken for a smothered laugh. The birds now roseon the wing, and together flew homewards. While passing the lake a boatand the sound of oars arrested their attention. To watch it as it wentby, they settled on the lowest branch of an old beech-tree, which grewat the edge of the lake, and spread its arms over the bright waters, affording a grateful shade to boating-parties in the summer. This treewas quite an old family friend, and generation after generation hadgazed at it from the old bay window--generations who had rejoiced in itsfirst spring leaves, and regretted the fall of the last brown one inautumn. It formed a capital shelter for the birds, from whence theycould see and not be seen. 

Willie and Alice, their mother and father, and Mrs. Barlow the nurse, were in the boat. The father was rowing, and Willie was occupying theproud position of steersman. They soon drew to land and moored thelittle craft under the shade of the beech-tree. Then out came littlemugs, bread and butter, fruit and cake--they were actually going to havea pic-nic on the water!

Tea out of doors was an immense delight; but tea out of doors and _onthe water_ was even better, at least so thought Willie and Alice, but sodid _not_ think Nurse Barlow. She screamed each time the boat rolled, and assured them every few minutes that they would all be drowned. Asfar as she was concerned she couldn't see "why Master Willie and MissAlice couldn't have had tea quietly in their own nursery. It was a dealbetter than coming out there on the water, and sitting under that tree, with all those nasty insects dropping down on them. "

Nurse Barlow did not love expeditions of any sort or kind. Sheinfinitely preferred walking up and down the trim gravel paths, with achild on either side of her. She could not bear to see the little curlsruffled, and the fresh white frocks tumbled. 

But these were not the sentiments of Willie and his sister, and it is tobe feared that they gave Nurse Barlow many disturbed and anxiousmoments, as they darted away from her to hide behind the bushes, orrolled head over heels in the new-mown hay, quite regardless of cleanfrock or embroidered suit. 

It must be confessed that on this particular evening Willie was in aspecially mischievous humour, for, among other tricks, he directed theattention of many small insects to his nurse's gown, where they remainedtill jerked off in horror by the discomfited Nanny. 

The Rook and Blackbird watched the party with no small interest andamusement, and then as the shadows lengthened they flew away home. 

It was such a lovely evening that, after seeing his wife and the youngones comfortably settled in their nest the Blackbird took another shortflight before going to bed himself. 

He halted on a hedgerow in a narrow lane, which bordered a deep wood. The sky was lovely sapphire colour, pierced here and there by brightstars. 

It was wonderfully still, save for those indescribable sounds which everaccompany the close of a summer's evening, those sounds which reveal tous that the great pulse of life is still strong, --strong even at thathour of repose, --the sleepy half-notes of the woodland bird, the"droning flight" of the beetle, or the passing hum of a belated bee. Tiny lamps, the glow-worm's "dusky light, " shone here and there from thehedgerow. No step sounded, the air was sweet with the perfume offlowers, and had not yet lost the heat of a long summer day. 

All at once, in the midst of the general stillness, there broke forth onthe night air a song so strange, so beautiful, that the Blackbird heldhis breath to listen. It came suddenly; and from a tree close besidehim, a sweet low murmuring song, and then it changed to a swift "jug, jug. " This was followed by a shake, clear and prolonged, and then came a"low piping sound, " which, as the song ceased, the air gave back, as ifit were loth to lose the melody. 

Once again the song broke forth, varied, and, if possible, more full, more beautiful than before, finishing with the same low pipe. TheBlackbird gazed about him in ecstasy; who could the unseen minstrel be?

A very unpretending looking bird, with a brown back, and a dull whitebreast was sitting on a beech-tree close by. Could that be the minstrel, that plain insignificant looking bird?

And then as the Blackbird reflected, he all at once called to mind whoit was, --this songster of the night!

It was none other than the Nightingale, the queen of song, the glory ofthe woods; and the Blackbird flew back to his nest, lost in admirationof the small brown-coated singer, his heart filled with gratitude forthe glorious song. 

END OF CHIRP THE THIRD. 

CHIRP THE FOURTH. 

AUTUMN. 

The strawberries had entirely disappeared, the raspberries andgooseberries had followed, the last of the hay had been some timegathered in, and dry grass had taken the place of flowery meadows. Thecorn which had been green and soft was rapidly becoming hard and golden. It was now that the Blackbird became aware that the sun was once morebeginning to go earlier to bed, and yet to get up later. 

"No doubt the sun is getting tired, " thought the Blackbird, "and nowonder; he has been up and shining so many hours lately. I shall be gladwhen he has had a good long rest, and begins to rise early again, forthe birds are not singing so sweetly as they used to do, and even thepoor flowers begin to droop. "

However, the days were still beautiful, though the blue sky was nowoften obscured by clouds, and the evenings were getting rather chilly. 

The oaks were still as fresh as ever, but many other trees had changedtheir bright green for the deeper and more golden tints of autumn. Insome places brown and crisp leaves already formed a thick carpet, andthe beeches were fast flinging their ripe nuts to the ground. For allthat, it was a little hard to realise that Autumn had already begun, formany flowers yet lingered, and the white and yellow roses stillenlivened the gray face of the old mansion. 

However, as the Blackbird had learnt to know, there were fruits and joysfor every season, and if the strawberries and cherries had gone, werethere not rosy-cheeked apples and delicious pears, which had beenwanting in the summer?

There was one apple-tree in the orchard which he specially remembered;he had noticed it in the spring with its wealth of pink-white blossoms. The blossoms had quickly fallen, and he recollected hopping and friskingabout among the soft, rosy petals as they strewed the grass. He hadregretted the fall of these pretty leaflets, and, of course, had goneto the old Rook for consolation. 

"Wait a while, " had been the Rook's sage remark; "they have only fallenoff to give place to something better. "

The old sage was right, they had been pushed off, in order that theapples of autumn might come to perfection. This tree was now coveredwith rosy-cheeked, tempting fruit, pippins, that were so round andplump, that their skins appeared to have a great difficulty incontaining them, and the Blackbird determined that no time should belost in conducting his young family there. 

Accordingly, one fine evening found him on the wing, at the head of hissummer nestlings, who were fast developing into grown-up birds. Healighted on a bough, and hopped down from thence to the grass, where theapples lay very temptingly around. Just as he was about to commencesupper, he became aware of a very fierce-looking man who was standingwith outstretched and threatening arms, only a few yards from the tree. 

The Blackbird immediately rose in the air and flew away with a shrillcry, and all his young ones followed him. They did not venture to stoptill they reached a neighbouring field. The appearance of the man atthis time was all the more singular, for the Blackbird never beforeremembered to have seen the gardener in the orchard, so late in theevening. However, the next morning he determined to be there betimes, and to make his breakfast off the apples, although he had lost hissupper. As he flew along, followed by his young ones, he said, "Nowremember, my children, always to be very careful, and never go near theorchard if the gardener happens to be about, for the hard-hearted manwould think nothing of shooting every one of us, and all for the sake ofhis miserable apples. "

This admonition did not make the young Blackbirds feel over comfortable, and as they hopped to the grass their poor little legs trembled withalarm. 

At this moment a shrill cry from their parent startled them, and againthey quickly scattered, for the dreadful gardener had already arrived, and was there awaiting them, standing by the tree with his outstretchedarms. 

It certainly was very provoking and terrifying, and after one or twomore feeble attempts upon the apples the Blackbird determined to giveup the orchard altogether, for go at what time he might, that horrible, that ugly old gardener was always there before him. 

One day he happened to mention his trouble and disappointment to theRook. You should have seen that bird's face; his usually solemnexpression of countenance suddenly gave way to one of intense amusement, as he replied, "Ah, you hav'n't been quite so many years about theorchards as I have, or you wouldn't have been quite so frightened. Thegardener has tried that old trick upon me and mine so often that I'mquite accustomed to it. Why, it's not a gardener at all--it's a ricketyold Scare-crow! However, " he added, as he saw the Blackbird look ratherashamed and crestfallen, "I was quite taken in myself at first; but oneday I happened to be passing the orchard just as a gale of wind wasblowing, and saw the Scare-crow topple over. Since that day I've neverbeen afraid of scare-crows, although there's an old farmer near here whoputs most frightful-looking ones in his corn fields, worse than any I'veever seen anywhere else. It's of no use, however, we don't care a bitfor them. They must find out something much more terrible thanscare-crows if they want to frighten the crows or us. "

It must be confessed that the Blackbird never had the moral courage toacknowledge how completely he had been taken in, and it was onlygradually that his young ones found out that after all the scare-crowwas not the dreaded gardener, but only some very shabby old clothesarranged on a stupid pole or two. 

It was about this time that the Blackbird haunted the neighbourhood of acertain lane, where the bramble blossoms had been succeeded by thewild-fruits of autumn. The blackberries were abundant, and it was notthe Blackbird only who found this lane, with its high hedgerows, anattractive spot. Little Willie would sometimes persuade his unwillingnurse to take that lane on their way home, "just for a treat, you know;"and while the nurserymaid, followed by Mrs. Barlow, pushed Alice in herperambulator, Willie would linger far behind, making many overt attacksupon the blackberries, thereby tearing his clothes and staining his lipsand fingers. 

One day the Blackbird was much amused at a scene which took place in thelane between Mrs. Barlow and her young charges. The nurserymaid had beenleft at home, Nanny was alone with them, Willie had lagged far behind, and had stuffed his mouth, and then with some difficulty all hispockets, full of ripe blackberries. Of course Nanny knew nothing ofthis; she was rather exhausted, and had stopped for a moment, perambulator in hand, to speak to a friend. 

This was an opportunity not to be lost. Willie ran up with one of hissmall hands full of the juicy berries, they were so good he _must_ givesome to Alice. The delighted little girl opened wide her rosy mouth toreceive the fruit. The crushed berries were hastily pushed in by Willie, leaving large purple stains on her lips and chin, and in his haste andfear of being discovered he let several fall on her pale blue pelisse. 

It was just at this moment that Nurse Barlow looked round. "MasterWillie! Master Willie!" she cried, darting forward and seizing him byboth hands, "haven't I often and often told you Miss Alice is not tohave those nasty berries? Didn't I only yesterday read in the newspaperof three children that were poisoned to death by eating berries out of ahedge--poor little children that had no nurse to look after them; andhere you've given the darling those nasty, poisonous things. Just lookat her mouth!" and she paused as she turned to examine Willie'spockets. "I do declare if you haven't gone and put them into the pocketsof your new clothes! Well, " said she, appealing to her friend, "did youever see the like? That's his new suit, on yesterday for the firsttime, --and just look!" she continued, as one after the other she slowlyturned the pockets inside out, "just look!"

The pockets were purple, as were also the lips and hands of thedelinquent, and he really looked as penitent as he felt, though, asNurse Barlow said, "where's the use of being sorry when the mischief'sdone?" Willie promised that he really would behave better another time, and that he had not meant to do any harm. In the meanwhile little Alicehad mightily enjoyed the taste of these her first blackberries, but sheand Willie did not forget in a hurry the terrible scolding, and the muchmore terrible washing, which succeeded that famous day's blackberryingin the lane. 

The Blackbird congratulated himself that he had no blue suit of clothesto spoil, and that his coat was of such a colour that the berries couldnot harm it. 

We have already said that the Blackbird had his interests and pleasureseven at this autumn time, but it must be owned that a good deal of lifeand enjoyment had gone with the summer. 

The woods were almost songless, and each day added to the increasingmultitude of dead leaves that drove before the wind; each day, too, thebare boughs, once so well covered, flung a few more of their last leavesto the ground. About this time, too, the Blackbird did not feel quitewell--he was listless, his wings would droop in spite of himself. Hisfeathers were not so black and glossy as they had been, --the fact was, the moulting season had begun, and it was some time before he began tofeel really bright and well again. 

It was also about this time that the Blackbird noticed a most unusualgathering together of the swallows, and a good deal of commotion andtwittering. They assembled in large flocks, and appeared to be eagerlydiscussing some weighty affair of State. After such discussions theywould suddenly disperse, but only to re-assemble and twitter moreeagerly than ever. 

What could it all mean? Of course the sage and experienced Rook wasreferred to. 

"These birds, " he said, "are about to what is called _migrate_, it is avery important event to them, and they hold long consultationsbeforehand. As you may remember, I told you in the spring they do notspend above half the year in England, and now that the leaves arefalling, and the winds are getting cold, they know it is high time to beoff. They are wonderfully quick flyers, a few days will find them on thedistant shores of Africa. "

"It must be very sunny, very delightful there, " said the Blackbird. 

"I daresay it is, " replied the Rook, hopping slowly from one fir-branchto another; "but I had far rather remain at home. Dear old place!" hesaid, looking at the venerable gray mansion, and then at the beautifullake and wood behind which the sun was setting. "I wouldn't miss thewinter and spring here for anything that Africa or any other place inthe wide world could give me. "

The gray stones and gables were bright with the glory of the settingsun, the ruddy stems of the firs had caught the reflection and stood outin their depth of red from the dark green foliage. Some autumn flowersand a few late roses still gave colour to the garden, and the sound offar-off childish voices echoed from the more distant lime-trees. 

Willie came dancing across the lawn, and the perambulator, pushed byNurse Barlow, followed more slowly. Willie's eyes were sparkling withexcitement. He had been out with his father, and had hunted thehedgerows for blackberries to his heart's content. In one hand he held asmall basket wherein lay some fresh-gathered mushrooms. In the other hebore in triumph a large hazel branch, loaded with nuts. Just then hismother came out on the lawn, and he ran towards her with eager joy andaffection. 

"Look, mother! I picked these in the field my very own self. Ain't theybeauties?" he said, turning the mushrooms slowly over; "they're for yourdinner, and _I_ picked them. "

They certainly looked very fresh and tempting, with their glossy whitetops and soft pink gills. 

"Thank you, my darling, " said his mother, stroking the brown hair backfrom his bright face, "I shall like them very much. "

At this moment Willie caught sight of a little black head and a pair ofbright eyes between the fir-branches. 

"Mother, " he whispered, pointing to the branch, "that's our Blackbird. He's fond of blackberries; he was eating some in the hedge the otherday--I saw him. I have a few in the corner of the basket here. I'llthrow them to him. "

A few blackberries were scattered on the grass on the other side of thefir-tree, and Willie moved a little further off, for fear the Blackbirdshould be shy. 

"These nuts are for your dessert, mother, " he continued, holding out thehazel branch in triumph. 

"It is very good of my little boy to think of mamma, " said his mother. "Isn't it, Barlow?" she said, turning to that rather exhausted person, who now came slowly up. 

Nurse Barlow had not had a happy afternoon. She had been toiling throughthe lanes after Willie and his papa. The lanes were muddy, they had gonea long way, and she was very tired. She had made up her mind that themushrooms were toadstools. It is true that they had come from a meadowin the neighbourhood where excellent mushrooms were wont to grow, butall the same, she was fully persuaded that these particular ones weretoadstools, "just such as my poor sister's little boy nearly died ofeating. "

Then again Master Willie had eaten "pounds of blackberries, let alonethose nasty nuts. "

It turned out that Nurse Barlow's fears were happily unfounded, forWillie's papa had forbidden the consumption of nuts and limited thequantity of blackberries. 

Notwithstanding these assurances, "Nanny" refused to be comforted, andas she tucked Willie in his little bed, she soothingly remarked, "A nicelot of physic I shall have to give you. Then you'll have to stayindoors, and you'll both be very cross and very tiresome; I know what itwill be. "

That night Willie's dreams were troubled, but they were mingled with adeep bliss notwithstanding. He seemed to be wandering through endlesslanes where thousands of ripe and gigantic blackberries grew on allsides, --they actually seemed to bend forward and drop into his basket ashe passed. Hazel-nuts were there also, of a marvellous size, and verybrown and sweet, browner and sweeter than any he ever remembered to haveeaten. He passed from the lanes into a field, where the mushrooms grewso thickly, that it was difficult to avoid treading on them as hewalked. What greatly added to the delights of the expedition was thefact that all the time the Blackbird hopped by his side. He, too, seemedto have grown larger, and he was wonderfully tame, and allowed Willie tostroke his glossy head and back. Arrived at the end of the meadow, however, Willie seemed somehow to pass into another lane, and there onthe hedgerows instead of blackberries hung curious-looking bottles, andthey were all labelled "Mr. Phil Viall, Chemist and Druggist. "

Alas! poor Willie, he knew those bottles far too well. Some of them wereyellow and others were white, while a few were dreadfully black. "Nanny, " grown very tall indeed, marched before him down the lane, pointing sternly to each bottle as she passed. 

At this moment Willie awoke, and was very glad to find that after all itwas only a dream, that the bright morning sun was streaming through thewhite dimity curtains, and that he did not feel one bit the worse foryesterday's expedition. 

A few days passed away, and the Blackbird found that all that theRook had told him was strictly true, for before long an eveningarrived when a great many swallows began to congregate; then after agood deal of twittering and excitement they took wing, and flew steadilyaway towards the setting sun. The next morning the Blackbird sadlymissed the twitter of his small friends. No little glossy dark headswere to be seen peeping out of the clay-built nests under the eaves, and no white-breasted flyers skimmed the lawn. Yes, the swallows wereindeed gone, and the Blackbird sadly realised the fact that thesummer and its singers were gone too, left far behind in the months oflong ago. 

That evening, after watching the flight of the swallows, the Blackbirdflew from the fir to his favourite branch on the lime, where we werefirst introduced to him. He felt rather sad, there was so much that wasbright and joyous and sunny to look back upon in the past spring andsummer; there was not a little that was dark and cold and dreary to lookforward to in the approaching winter. As he was meditating on the past, and thinking of the future, a bright, a familiar note greeted him from abranch close by, --in another moment the Robin had hopped to his side. 

"My dear little friend, " cried the Blackbird, "I haven't seen you for along time. "

"I've often seen you though, " said the Robin; "but what with your twolarge families, and all the delights and distractions of the summer, youhave been a good deal occupied. "

"I haven't heard you singing, " said the Blackbird. 

"Don't you remember what I told you in the spring?" replied the Robin;"my poor little song is quite extinguished when so many others aresinging, but now I am beginning to be heard once more. "

Again he poured forth a clear, bright carol. 

"As I have said before, " remarked the Blackbird, "you are a very goodlittle bird, you come to cheer us just when we want cheering. "

"But you're not so down-hearted as you used to be, " said the Robin. 

"That is due then to your bright little lessons, " said the Blackbirdgratefully, "and the teaching of our dear old friend the Rook there. "

In another moment the Rook, who was passing, had joined them on thelime-tree bough, and together the three friends watched the sun setting, and wondered where the swallows had got to by that time. 

The evening was chilly, and a damp mist lay over the meadows, a warningto the birds that it was time to be going home. 

[Illustration: THE THREE FRIENDS--THE ROBIN, THE ROOK, AND THE BLACKBIRD. ]

"Yes, " said the Blackbird reflectively, taking up the conversation wherehe had left off, "I ought to be very grateful to you, Mr. Rook, --and toyou, my dear little friend, " he said, turning to the Robin. "You, Mr. Rook, have taught me a great deal, and given me a real interest in thecreatures and things about me, which I should not have had otherwise. Above all, you have taught me the great lesson of faith and trust. Andyou, dear little red-breasted friend, have taught me the sweet lesson ofcontent, and not that alone, but you have shown me that each of us inour small way should try to make the world a little better and brighterfor those around us. You do it, Mr. Rook; you do it, little Robin;Willie and Alice do it, with their kind thoughtfulness for us, and whyshould not I try to do it also, --I will, and this very winter too. "

All the birds were grave and silent for a few moments, and then, as theytook an affectionate leave of each other before parting, the Rook said, "There was a pretty little poem once written about the Robin. I willrepeat it to you before we separate:

 "Unheard in Summer's flaring ray, Pour forth thy notes, sweet singer, Wooing the stillness of the autumn day: Bid it a moment linger, Nor fly Too soon from Winter's scowling eye. 

 "The Blackbird's song at eventide, And hers, who gay ascends, Filling the heavens far and wide, Are sweet. But none so blends, As thine With calm decay, and peace divine. "

Each day now the sun rose later and went to bed earlier. Willie andAlice still ran about the garden, stamping their little feet among thedry, crisp leaves, and picking up the beech-nuts which strewed theground. 

However, as time went on, they came less out of doors, for cold and wetdays followed each other, when all that the Blackbird saw of his littlefriends were the two small faces pressed against the dining-roomwindow-pane, looking wistfully out as the clouds drove past, and therain pattered against the glass. 

At last a night arrived when it was very cold indeed. Through the bareboughs, and on to the hedgerows and ivy, stole down the pure, soft snow. The Blackbird put his head out of the ivy-bush to see what sort of nightit might be, and lo! under the pale light of the moon, all the landscapelay white and dazzling before him. 

One little flake dropt upon his head--one cold, soft flake; but as hedrew back into the shelter of the ivy, to return once more to rest, itwas with very different thoughts and feelings than those gloomy oneswhich had troubled him the year before. He now knew what the beautifulsnow meant. It was the beginning of a hard winter, it was the herald ofcold, dark days. But he had also been taught a lesson of faith; he knewof the winter berries which would be provided for him by One whoremembered even the despised Sparrows; he knew of a certain bay windowwhere two eager little faces would be watching for him, through all thecold, dark days; and as he closed his eyes, on this the first night ofwinter, he remembered that little Willie and Alice, and he himself, andall created things, were under the protection of Him Who "casteth forthHis ice like morsels, " but Who, in His own good time, would again bringabout the "time of the singing of birds, " when, once more, as of old, "the voice of the turtle" would be "heard in the land. "

THE END. 

 LONDON: R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, BREAD STREET HILL, E. C. 

 * * * * *

Transcriber's Notes

Typographical problems have been changed and are listed below. 

Hyphenation standardized and are also listed below. 

Archaic and variable spelling is preserved, including pic-nic. 

Author's punctuation style is preserved. 

Illustrations moved close to their relevant pages, and page numbersreferences removed. 

Passages in italics indicated by _underscores_. 

Passages in bold indicated by =equal signs=. 

Transcriber Changes

In addition to standardizing hyphenation, the following changes weremade to the original text:

 Page 3: Was =where-ever= hyphenated across two lines (the little cold droppings seemed to pursue him =wherever= he went)

 Page 7: =Ivy berries= standardized to =Ivy-berries= (=Ivy-berries= will be poorish eating day after day. ")

 Page 15: Added end quote after us. (We do not 'sow, nor do we gather into barns, ' but still 'God feeds =us. '=)

 Page 15: =lime trees= standardized to =lime-trees= (swiftly passed over one or two snow-covered fields, and then by a long avenue of =lime-trees=. )

 Page 32: =laurel bushes= standardized to =laurel-bushes= (he flew off to the =laurel-bushes= by the bay window and sang a song)

 Page 36: Removed comma from "Nanny, " (he was afraid that "=Nanny=" might find out what they were doing. )

 Page 41: Removed begin quote before "When ("Oh, " replied the Rook, "the swallows are most curious and interesting creatures. =When= October comes they assemble)

 Page 52: =newly mown= standardized to =newly-mown= (The =newly-mown= hay was falling on all sides)

 Page 54: =even-tide= standardized to =eventide= (This was a secret corner to which the birds repaired at =eventide=)

 Page 60: "twofold shout" changed to single quotes (His ='twofold shout'= of _cuckoo_ is a welcome sound to every one)

 Page 84: spring?" changed to double quote ("Don't you remember what I told you in the =spring?"=)

 Page 87: =bay-window= standardized to =bay window= (he knew of a certain =bay window= where two eager little faces would be watching for him)

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