THE BIRD OF THE MORNING. 9 



not very loud, but it was urgent, and I looked 

 the tree over very carefully with my opera- 

 glass before I caught sight of the culprit, and 

 was amazed to see the robin. The tone was so 

 entirely unlike any I ever heard from him that 

 I should not have suspected him even then, but 

 I saw him in the very act. No sooner did he 

 notice that he was observed than he gave a loud 

 mocking '' He he he ! " and flew across the lawn 

 to his own tree. 



One morning he was not to be seen at his 

 usual work, but a furious calling came from the 

 other side of the lawn. It was anxious and 

 urgent, and it was incessant. I resolved to see 

 what was the matter. Stealing quietly along, 

 I came in sight of the bird, loudly calling, flut- 

 tering his wings, and in evident trouble, though 

 I could not imagine the cause, until looking 

 closely I saw perched on a branch of a cedar- 

 tree a fat, stupid-looking bird, fully as big as 

 the robin, and covered with feathers, but with a 

 speckled breast, and no tail worth mentioning. 



There he sat, like a lump of dough, head 

 down in his shoulders, and bill sticking almost 

 straight up, and neither the tenderest coaxing 

 nor the loudest scolding moved him in the least. 

 In fact, I thought he was dead, till the opera- 

 glass showed that he winked. But stupid as he 

 looked, he was the darling of the heart in that 



