THE KING OF BIEDS. 



ITo"w, yon think I am going to tell yon abont the eagle. Con- 

 fess that yon do! "Of conrse!" yon say. "Everybody knows 

 that the eagle is the king of birds. Do you think we are dunces?" 



l^o, I don't think you are dunces, but perhaps there may still be 

 a few things that you do not know, though, of course, it is only 

 because you have not had time to learn them. And one of these 



few things is, that, according to ancient story, the king of all birds 

 is not the mighty eagle, but — the wren ! — the tiny, chattering, 

 brown wren, who builds his pretty, little, round nest in hedgerows 

 and hayricks. I will tell you the story as it was told by a famous 

 writer, many hundreds of years ago, and then you may believe it, or 

 not, just as you like. 



Once upon a time, then, all the birds met together to choose a 

 king; and they decided that the one who could soar the highest 

 should be ruler over all the feathered tribes. Up they all sprang 

 into the air, hawk and heron, swallow and skylark, and every bii-d 



