Alabama, ipi8. 41- 



songs of other birds in the treetops he wished to sing too. But in 

 some strange way the song he felt he could have sung seemed to 

 belong with soaring wings, with swaying boughs, with whispering 

 green leaves, and he could not imitate their liquid notes. Sometimes 

 when he saw the lark soar into the far blue sky he felt a stir of long- 

 ing for something beautiful he had missed. But he contented him- 

 self among the slower folk upon the ground, and when one day he 

 came upon a quiet little gray bird whose wing was too crippled ever 

 to bear her aloft again, he persuaded her to help him build a nest in 

 a sheltered hollow. Soon they were very busy providing for a 

 brood of little birds. None of their children ever thought of flying ; 

 they used their wings only to help them run or to beat off an enemy. 

 So at last the wonderful heritage of flight and song disappeared. 

 All the descendants of the little brown bird who would not use his 

 wings had their dwelling upon the ground, and their only song was 

 a chirp or a twitter — never the sweet, joyous carol of the sky 

 lovers." 



"The tale is done, O little disciple," said Mrs. Drew with a 

 kiss. "Now put on your hat and weed your beloved pansy bed while 

 you think it over. Before you go to bed maybe we'll have a little 

 talk about it." 



Agatha said nothing at all, but she kissed her mother and went 

 off to the pansy bed with a very thoughtful face. — Bdith Childs 

 Battle. 



