AFFECTION OF THE REDBREAST. 
into the expectant little beak, went off again. When they 
returned, the bellows was going, the fire roaring, and the 
smith hammering, still the brave little robins were nowise 
disconcerted; they flew on to the heaving bellows, backward 
and forward, all day long, and when the evening came they 
perched on the edge of the saucepan, and tucked their heads 
under their wings. When I saw them, the fledglings had just 
begun to fly, and were all perfectly hearty and contented. 
In connection with the robin’s affection for its young, a story 
is related of a gentleman who gave directions for a waggon to be 
packed with sundry hampers and boxes, intending to send it to 
Worthing, where he himself was going. For some reasons his 
journey was delayed ; and he therefore directed that the waggon 
should be placed in a shed in his yard, packed as it was, till it 
should be convenient for him to send it off. While it was in 
the shed, a pair of robins built their nest among some straw in 
it, and had hatched their young just before it was sent away. 
One of the old birds, instead of being frightened away by the 
motion of the waggon, only left its nest from time to time for 
the purpose of flying to the nearest hedge for food for its 
young ; and thus, alternately affording warmth and nourish- 
ment to them, it arrived at Worthing. The affection of this 
bird having been observed by the waggoner, he took care, in 
unloading, not to disturb the robin’s nest ; and the robin and 
its young ones returned in safety to Walton Heath, being the 
place from which they had set out, the distance travelled not 
being less than 100 miles. 
That the robin can in the summer be sociable of his own free 
will, and without any selfish inducement, is attested by that 
unimpeachable naturalist, Gilbert White. He says, “ During 
my early days a redbreast attached itself to us, and not only 
favoured us with his company during the frosts of winter, but 
continued his visits during summer. On hearing his name, 
‘ Bob,’ he would chirp in reply, and come to see if there was 
any food for him. We have recognized him while walking, 
and heard him respond to his name. He used to come and sit 
by while we fed the rabbits, and at last became so impudent 
as to sit on the edge of a pan from which a rabbit was eating, 
and assist in the demolition of his dinner.” 
I myself know of an instance of a robin not only knowing 
and answering to the name by which it was christened, but 
also exhibiting evidence of a first-rate memory and no little 
affection. 
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