XL VI 



THE MOCKING BIRD 



AS I write I am usually entertained all day long by 

 a mocking bird in a tree near my window. If I feel 

 blue or disgruntled in any way, all I have to do is to 

 listen to this bird for a few moments, and the gloom dis- 

 appears and the world looks bright again. Unfortunately 

 some of my readers have never seen this most remarkable 

 of songsters, but wherever it is known it has always been 

 greatly loved. 



There is a legend that once upon a time the birds were 

 discussing which was the best singer. The argument waxed 

 loud and long until at last the wise old owl suggested that 

 they have a contest. Each bird was to sing his sweetest 

 song and then all should vote as to which was the master 

 musician. Through all this discussion the mocking bird 

 remained silent, but no one seemed to notice this until the 

 contest began. The lark, the robin, and the nightingale, 

 the whippoorwill, the blue jay, and the wren — in fact, all 

 the birds — in turn sang their loudest and best till all were 

 done. Then some one discovered that the mocking bird 

 had taken no part at all. One after another demanded the 

 reason, and finally were met with the reply that he had no 

 song. At last, after much urging, he came forward, 

 chirped a bit, and then sang the song of one bird after 



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