THE STORY OF TINY TIM. 



With flash of lightning, mutter of 

 thunder, torrents of rain, and the wailing 

 of a fierce Norther, Tiny Tim came. He 

 was a bird, scarcely larger than a hummer, 

 known to ornithologists as the cerulean 

 warbler, or little bluish grey flycatcher. 



HOYER GONZALES. 



dashed into a showcase window of a gun 

 store and fell insensible to the floor. He 

 was picked up and tenderly cared for. In 

 a few minutes he revived and soon became 

 bright and lively again. He was so frail 

 that the pressure of a finger and thumb 



BREAKFAST TIME. 



He had probably left his Northern home the 

 previous fall, and, following his instinct, had 

 become an aerial wanderer, drifting far into 

 the tropics, like a bit of paper, on an air 

 current. With returning spring there had 

 come within his tiny breast the usual re- 

 sistless impulse to visit his far away 

 Northern home, and with admirable forti- 

 tude he had started on his long journey of 

 2,000 or 3,000 miles, guided by no one 

 knows what. About one-third of the dis- 

 tance had been accomplished, when he had 

 been overtaken by the terrific sub-tropical 

 storm. Unable to battle against it, he was 



would have made him a shapeless mite, yet 

 we knew that since his advent into the 

 world he had yearly flown more than 1,000 

 miles from his Northern home into the 

 tropics and back, flying with faith and in- 

 stincts that none can explain. 



From the first he showed no fear of man, 

 but would perch on our fingers, and preen 

 himself and ruffle his feathers saucily. 

 Small wonder that we grew attached to 

 him. He had injured one of his wings, 

 and although he made frantic efforts to 

 catch flies he could not be quick enough. 

 We took the cue, and thereafter everyone 



9' 



