

Taken with camera on library table, on February twenty-seventh, through 



heavy plate glass. Robin on the bench on veranda, snow six 



inches deep on the ground 



CHAPTER XI 



Robin: Planesticus Migratorus 



IN THE DOORYARD 



I LEARNED to love the Robin, when as a child, I sat on my 

 father's knee while he pointed out to me the russet-breasted bird, 

 singing from the top of a cherry-tree during a spring shower, and 

 taught me to mark the accent, to catch the exquisite inflection 

 of tone as the happy bird sang: "Cheer up, dearie! Cheer up, 

 dearie ! Cheer up ! Cheer ! ' ' 



He told me the story of the Robin that tried to minister to 

 the dying Saviour on the cross staining its breast with sacred 

 blood; of how Christ blessed it and commissioned it ever to be 

 the friend of mankind, always to sing to him of good cheer; of 



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