OUR HOME BIRDS. 
57 
I can never tell this part of my story without stop- 
ping a while to think of my dear mate, who will 
never join me again in my songs or my labors. 
“ 4 By the help of the kind gardener and his wife I 
reared my young ones. Just before we were ready to 
take our winter’s journey the same boy who ran with 
a gun in his hand and picked up my mate when he 
fell, passed near the spot where I was resting a 
moment from my labors on the branch of a tree. I 
started instantly to fly away, but I was not quick 
enough to avoid a heavy stone which he aimed at 
me. It struck one of my wings and almost broke it. 
I was still able to fly, though with some pain, and 
soon started southward with my young brood. I 
bore the suffering from my wounded wing without 
complaint till we arrived in the interior of Pennsyl- 
vania. Here I stopped, and my young ones reluc- 
tantly left me to take care of myself, while they went 
forward with the company. For several days I found 
food in abundance, but when that snow T -storm came 
I was forced to seek it near your door. 
“ ‘ You now have my story, sweet child ; and as 
we are so well acquainted, I hope you will not object 
to my spending the winter with you, and I will repay 
your kindness as well as I know how.’ ” 
Edith pronounced the story “ very pretty, and just 
exactly like a little robin, but very sad too.” 
