ROBIN 



was freely his for the love we bore him. I often wondered what 

 I would have seen could I have followed him south ; but however 

 kind every one would be forced to be to him, I always shall believe 

 he loved us best on account of those early migrations, often made 

 alone. 



The next year we had swarms of Martins on the windmill, 

 Bluebirds in the bird houses, Song Sparrows in the honeysuckle, 

 and Robins in three different trees, but tragedy or old age had 

 done its work, for all the spring we listened in vain for the voice 

 of our dear bird. 



Ready for first migration 



003 



