to lend them warmth, or may find my 

 dear mate performing that office in my 

 absence. I will pray that it may be so 

 as I fly. Praises would be mockery 

 from my throat to-day, mockery!" 



yf* vf! ^ ^ ^ 



"Why, Jenny!" shrieked her mother 

 as Mrs. B. sank down exhausted upon 

 the threshold of her old home. "What- 

 ever is the matter with you, and what 

 has brought you here this time of 

 day?" 



"I am hungry and sick, mother, and I 

 feel as though, as though — I am going 

 to die!" 



"And where is Mr. Britisher? You've 

 no business to be hungry with a hus- 

 band to care for )'ou," tartly replied 

 her mother, whilst bustling about to 

 find a grub or two to supply her daugh- 

 ter's wants. 



"I have no husband, I fear, mother. 

 He is—" 



"Dead!"shrieked the old lady. "Don't 

 tell me Mr. Britisher is dead!" 



"Dead, or worse," sadly replied her 

 daughter. 



"Worse? Heaven defend us! You 

 don't mean he has deserted you?" 



"He left me yesterda)- afternoon in 

 anger, and has not returned." 



"Highty, tighty, that's it, is it? 

 Well, you have brought it all upon 

 yourself and will have to suffer for it. 

 I am sure your father talked enough 

 about idleness and vanity for you to 

 have heeded, and time and time again 

 I have told you that every husband in 

 the sparrow family is a bully and a 

 tyrant, and every wife, if she expects 

 to live happily, must let her mate have 

 his own way." 



Mrs. B. sighed, and wearily dropped 

 her head upon her breast. 



"You must go' back," emphatically 

 said her mother, "before the neighbor- 

 hood gets wind of the affair. Mr. 

 Britisher may be home this very min- 

 ute, and glad enough he will be to see 

 you, I am sure. So go back, dear, be- 

 fore the eggs grow cold and your 

 neighbors will be none the wiser." 



"I am going, mother, but oh, I feel 

 so ill, so ill!" said the bereaved little 



creature as she wearily poised for her 

 flight. 



"She does look weakly and sick, poor 

 thing," said the mother with a sigh 

 watching her out of sight, "but 

 I don't believe in interfering be- 

 tween husband and wife. Mr. Brit- 

 isher, indeed, gave me to understand 

 from the first that the less he saw of 

 his mother-in-law the better, remark- 

 ing that if that class would only stay 

 at home and manage their own house- 

 hold affairs fewer couples, he thought, 

 would be parted. I considered that a 

 rather broad hint, and in consequence 

 have never visited them since they be- 

 gan housekeeping. He has only gone 

 off in a huff, of course, and everything 

 will come out all right, I am sure." 



Ere nightfall, however, motherly 

 anxiety impelled her to fly over to her 

 daughter's home. 



Alas, only desolation and ruin were 

 there. At the foot of the tree lay the 

 form of Mrs. B. Exposure, sorrow, 

 and excitement had done their work. 

 It was a lifeless form which met her 

 tearful gaze. 



The fate of Mr. Britisher was never 

 known. Rumor assigned his absence 

 to matrimonial infelicity, but his more 

 charitable neighbors, as they dropped 

 a tear to his memory, pictured his 

 mangled form a victim to the wanton 

 cruelty or mischievous sport of some 

 idle boy. 



A gentleman passing by one day saw 

 the dismantled nest upon the ground 

 and carelessly stirred it with his cane. 



"What is that, uncle?" queried a lit- 

 tle maid of some five summers who 

 walked by his side. 



"That, little one," came the answer 

 slowly and impressively, "is an aban- 

 doned home." 



"An abandoned home," I repeated, 

 as his words floated up to my window. 

 "Aye, truly to the casual observer that 

 is all it seems, but, oh, how little do 

 they dream of the folly, the suffering, 

 the sad, almost tragic ending of the 

 wee feathered couple whom I saw build 

 that humble home." 



200 



