4 THE BIRD OF THE MORNING. 



go about their necessary tasks of food-hunting 

 in dismal silence, the robin is not a whit less 

 happy than when the sun shines ; and his 

 cheery voice rings out to comfort not only the 

 inmates of the damp little home in the maple, 

 but the owners of waterproofs and umbrellas 

 who mope in the house. 



The most delightful study of one summer, 

 not long ago, was the daily life, the joys and 

 sorrows, of a family of robins, whose pretty 

 castle in the air rested on a stout fork of a 

 maple-tree branch near my window. Da}^ by 

 day I watched their ways till I learned to know 

 them well. 



The seat chosen for observations was under a 

 tree on the lawn, which happened to be the 

 robin's hunting-ground; and here I sat for 

 hours at a time, quietly looking on at his work, 

 and listening to the robin talk around me ; the 

 low, confidential chat in the tree where the little 

 wife was busy, the lively gossip across the 

 street with neighbors in another tree, the warn- 

 ing " Tut ! tut ! " when a stranger appeared, 

 the war cry when an intruding bird was to be 

 driven away, and the joyous " Pe-e-p ! tut, tut, 

 tut ! " when he alighted on the fence and sur- 

 veyed the lawn before him, flapping his wings 

 and jerking his tail w^ith every note. 



In truth, the sounds one hears in a robin 



