With the 
Blackbird. 
(29) 
THE BIRD WORLD. 
your petals with crimson, you smiled in 
your sleep. Were you dreaming of me? 
But the daisy answered pettishly: 
“ How you do burn! ” A little later, 
when the world went to work again, it 
occurred to the Blackbird to go to the 
strawberry beds and to pick out the 
choicest fruits before the projected visit 
with his sons. 
“They won’t be at all particular; 
they’re young, and so will rather prefer 
unripe berries. Their digestions are 
very strong and healthy, whereas mine is 
not so good as it used to be, and I’m 
quite sure the little innocents would be 
the very first to tell me that I must take 
care of myself.” 
He easily found the hole in the netting 
which had been used by many a bird 
before him, and, noting that a white 
stone lay quite close to it, began his 
feast. The fruit was deliciously cool 
and juicy, and in the enjoyment of it he 
soon forgot all about the black and 
spotted-brown corpses he had seen 
lying on the ground near the bed, 
unhappy victims to the fury of 
the gardener; and it was not until 
the sound of a footstep and a mut¬ 
tered imprecation reached his ears that 
he became aware that he was in peril of 
his life. He screamed loudly, and flut¬ 
tered in pitiful agitation up and down 
the length of the nets. Several times he 
was so near to the exit by the white stone 
that he might have escaped, but he was 
too terrified to notice it. Pit-a-pat! 
pit-a-pat! went his heart, his breath 
came in short, quick pants, his poor 
little legs seemed scarcely able to bear 
his trembling body, and his eyes became 
dim and blurred in agony. 
A Narrow Escape. 
“ Why, oh! why, was I so perfidious 
as to come here now?” he sobbed out; 
“ this is a judgment on me for deceiving 
my sweet children. Oh! how I wish I 
hadn’t been so cheeky to the Lark this 
morning. I wonder whether he’ll be 
sorry when he hears of my death ? Ah ! 
there’s the hole! No, it isn’t, and that 
man’s getting positively scarlet with rage. 
Dear, dear; perhaps if I had been kinder 
to all my relations and friends this might 
never have happened. I’ll resolve in 
future-hurrah ! hurrah ! there’s my 
white stone, and here am I, safe and 
sound outside ! Go to bed, you dodder¬ 
ing old gardener; you don’t know how 
to catch a Blackbird like me, you don t. 
Not you, and if you don’t control your 
naughty passions you’ll die of apoplexy. 
Good-bye! ” 
But, although the Blackbird thus, 
bravely taunted the gardener, he was 
so greatly scared by his narrow escape 
from death as to spend the rest of the 
day in the quietude of the wood near the 
hayfield; besides which, he had eaten so 
many strawberries that he was disin¬ 
clined for further exertion. 
Later on as the evening shadows 
began to lengthen he stole out and made 
a hurried supper, then prepared to settle 
for the night. The hare he had seen in 
the morning ran under the tree on his 
way to the carnations in the garden, the 
Owl brushed gently by his perch, mur¬ 
muring to himself : “ Two little children, 
two fat mice. Two-two-two,” and the 
Nightjar passed with noisy whirr. 
At Eventide. 
“ Well, well, how sleepy I’m getting. 
Now, to-morrow, I’ll resolve not to get. 
up quite so early, not to speak an unkind 
word to anybody, not to go near the 
strawberry bed, and to give the biggest 
and fattest worm I can find to my dear, 
confiding children—or, stay ! No, per¬ 
haps they wouldn’t understand the higher 
meaning of my act, and it is better to- 
let them fend for themselves and to learn 
independence. As for the fruit, I 
honestly believe it gives the gardener 
true pleasure to see how much we appre¬ 
ciate the results of his industry. Now I 
come to think of it, he called out some¬ 
thing about showing me how to eat 
strawberries. Perhaps he wanted to 
point out the ripest; then, how very rude 
he must have thought me to slight his 
offers. Well, I’ll give him another 
chance to-morrow; and yes, Til teach 
the Lark how to speak to a gentleman* 
Til tell him-” 
But somehow, just then he fell fast 
asleep, and sgeedily forgot all his joys 
and griefs in sweet, dreamless slumbers. 
