BIRD STORIES 



There were times, certainly, when Larie still felt very 

 much a baby, even though he ran about nimbly enough. 

 For instance, when he made a mistake and asked some 

 gull, that was not his father or mother, for food, and got 

 a rough beating instead of what he begged for! 



Oh, then he felt like a forlorn little baby, indeed; for 

 it was not pleasant to be whipped, and that sometimes 

 cruelly, when he did n't know any better; for all the big 

 gulls looked alike, with their foam-white bodies and their 

 pearl-gray capes, and they were all bringing food; so how 

 could he know who were and who were not his Father and 

 Mother Gull? Well, he must learn to be careful, that 

 was all, and stay where his very own could find and feed 

 him; for gulls can waste no time on the young of other 

 gulls — their own keep them busy enough, the Uttle 

 greedies! 



Again, Larie must have felt very wee and helpless 

 whenever a big man walked that way, shaking the 

 ground with his heavy step and making a dark shadow 

 as he came. Then, oh, then, Larie was a baby, and hid 

 near a tuft of grass or between two stones, tucking his 

 head out of sight, and keeping quite still as an ostrich 

 does, or, — yes, — as perhaps a shy young human does, 

 who hides his head in the folds of his mother's skirt 

 when a stranger asks him to shake hands. 



But few men trod upon Larie's island-world, and no 



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