166 THE RED-BREAST 



and as your heart is as true and as faithful as it is 

 warm and passionate, you have not many deceptions in 

 love. In the warm nest you have woven of moss and grass, 

 your large family is slumbering peacefully ; when you 

 leave your dwelling to search for food, you cover the en- 

 trance of the nest with a dry leaf, like a prudent landlord 

 who closes the latch of his door before going out, and you 

 take wing w^ith a quiet mind, having no care and no 

 uneasiness. 



^^'hen autumn comes, and haw, sorbs and dog-w^ood 

 redden the hedges, you change your bill of fare, and you 

 begin to live on juicy, perfumed fruit. Your throat then 

 acquires a fresh sujipleness, and your song new beauty 

 and power. Leaves fall from the trees, but the first colds 

 of winter w^ill not frighten you ; you w ill only fly nearer 

 to human dwellings. It seems that you regret to leave us, 

 and often, in the month of November, the first soft snow^ 

 will take you by surprise, and you will hammer with your 

 bill against some bright window, asking unceremoniously 

 for shelter and food. 



To be sure, you do not escape the common lo.t, and 

 you will grow old just as we all do; only to us it does not 

 seem so, and we do not perceive that you are changing. 

 We see red-breasts hopping and skipping about at the same 

 places as formerly ; we hear your autumnal song, and it 

 seems to us that we are yet hearing the same bird. They 

 say that you are spared the decrepitude of old age, and 



