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brick house with tall chimneys — of a lawn, and of a 

 shining river with hills beyond. 



Then the wind would pass by, the tree would 

 straighten, and we could see nothing above the 

 circle of the nest but the green leaves with the sun 

 shining through them. 



Every evening our father sat on the tiptop of a 

 tall tree just as the sun was setting. He looked 

 quite black against the pale sky. There he sang 

 and sang ; — sang so sweetly and clearly that all we 

 young ones were still and listened. Then home he 

 would come, to sleep on a branch close by, while 

 our mother brooded over us. Ah, those were 

 happy days ; but they could not last. 



We were all strong, stout robins. We grew 

 fast. Soon our mother told us that it was time 

 for us to learn to fly. That was not pleasant — that 



learning to fly. 



We got up on the edge of the nest. There we 



sat, afraid to try. We were very, very high up in 



the air, and our wings felt strange when we spread 



them. 



Flutter and Flap were very bold and strong. 



They tried without much urging. The rest of us 



were more timid. 



