46 THE SWALLOW 



And ever since then, in the summer time, 

 when the swallow is sitting upon a beam, 

 alone and pensive, if you listen carefully, you 

 will hear her repeat sadly and slowly, over and 



over: "My mistress — has lost — my mistress 

 — has lost — her spool — of red thread — her 

 spool — of red thread — and — her — scissors!" 



The swallow has no song like other birds. 

 Upon the wing she gives a shrill cry, in 

 repose she chatters and chirps, but scarcely 

 ever does she utter a sound which might* 

 be called a song. 



To account for this peculiar trait the 

 German folk tell the following three pretty 

 legends. 



