AN INTERESTING LESSON. 



Young Master Robin sat on a twig 

 of the maple tree jxist outside my win- 

 dow. He called in a loud and insistent 

 way to his mother, who sat in the tree 

 some distance above him. It was a baby 

 cry for food, but his mother had evi- 

 dently decided that he was no longer 

 a baby. 



He had no tail to speak of, and looked 

 like a big bunch of feathers, with a beak 

 and speckled breast beginning to grow 

 rusty. "Mother!" he called. "Mother!" 

 No answer. His calls grew- more urg- 

 ent. Mother Robin listened but said 

 nothing. She hopped nearer to him and 

 plainly looked, "I must give this lazy big 

 baby a lesson. He must learn to fly." 



She hopped to the twig close beside 

 him. He continued to call as well as he 

 could while holding his mouth open ex- 

 pectantly. 



Mother Robin looked at him sadly for 

 a moment and then suddenly flew against 



him. He toppled oflf the twig, but dis- 

 covered that he had wings and flew to a 

 tree near by, his mother keeping close to 

 him as he flew. 



On this tree, he sat and called again. 

 His mother felt encouraged, and from 

 the top of a neighboring tree called, 

 "Come! Come!" "Can't," he answered. 

 "Come! Come!" sounded again and 

 again, but the answer was "Can't." At 

 last he grew discouraged and silent, and 

 sat for a long time a very disconsolate 

 bundle of feathers. 



Then he began pecking at the leaves 

 about him, Mother Robin still watching 

 from a distance. Presently an air of 

 determination was shown by a change 

 of attitude; he raised his head, looked 

 alertly about him, straightened the 

 humps from his shoulders and suddenly 

 fle"' some distance out of my sight. 



The hard lesson was learned, the vic- 

 tory won. Anna Yarnall. 



THE ROBIN. 



"Qieer up, cheer up! Cheery, Cheery!" 



So you sing from break of day ; 

 Bringing comfort to the weary 



Like a sunbeam's gentle ray, 

 With its golden gleam of comfort 



To a soul tired of the fray. 

 This is the happy song you sing 



When brightly shines the sun in May ; 

 This the song you sing in summer 



When the earth is bright and gay ; 

 These the joyous words you utter 



Wlien winter cold is on the way ! 



— W. R. Murphy. 



