16(3 THE PRANKS OF THE TUFTED TITMOUSE. 



"Well, well I I'm surprised at your stupidity," 

 chattered Master Chickadee, flitting to another 

 twig. " You ought to know that the birds destroy 

 many noxious insects that, if permitted to live, 

 would do damage to the grain, fruit and forests." 



" Very true," I replied ; "• but I have still another 

 question to ask, and if 3^ou can answer that, you 

 are wiser than all the philosophers put together. 

 Why were the insects made ? " 



" Why — well ! Chick — chick — chick-a-da-da ! 

 cMck-a-da-da ! '' he cackled and sputtered, tilting 

 perilously on a spray, and then turning a somer- 

 sault to cover his confusion, for the query had 

 evidently puzzled him for a moment or two ; but 

 he quickly recovered himself, and looking at me, 

 his large, roguish eyes a-twinkle, answered with- 

 out a quaver in his tones : " The insects, sir, were 

 made for the birds to feed on." 



" You are a second Solon ! " I broke out in ad- 

 miration. " I agree with you. No matter how 

 you reason, you circle back to your original start- 

 ing-point. The end of creation is found in the 

 birds I Would that we could all be as well satis- 

 fied with the lot that has been appointed us as you 

 seem to be, Master Chickadee." 



