9 
3 
“It is Paul Woods. He was injured by 
a fall from a wagon. Humor him in what 
he says,” said Harry in an undertone to 
John. Then aloud: 
“Isthat you, Paul? Where have you 
been ? I haven’t seen you since I have been 
home.” 
“You were at school, Harry, wasn’t 
you?” questioned Paul, in a pleased tone, 
crossing the creek. 
“Yes. I came home about a week ago.” 
“I hardly knew you. Who is this with 
you who writes poetry? I love poetry.” 
“It is a school-mate, John Ammon. He 
spends vacation with me.” 
“I am glad to know you, Paul,” said 
John, extending his hand which Paul grasp¬ 
ed warmly, “I know we shall be friends.” 
“I have no friends now,” he said. “The 
boys laugh at me—they didn’t use to do 
so—and I live with the birds.” 
A mist filled John’s eyes as he heard the 
hidden wail in the boys voice. 
“I’ll be your friend, Paul. You like 
poetry and so do I; won’t you learn me 
some ?” 
“I do not go to school, and you must 
know more than I, but since you are my 
friend I will try and please you. Listen: 
He drew off the broad-rimmed hat which 
he wore, and looking upward chanted 
rather than spoke: 
“I love to see the little birds, 
And list their twit’ring ’rouud their hearths. 
There’s music in their gentle words; 
They’re God’s own angels here on earth.” 
The boys remained silent after Paul 
ceased speaking, impressed by the words he 
had uttered. 
“Do you like it?” asked Paul after a 
short pause. 
“Very much, Paul,” returned Harry. 
“You need not attend school,” said John. 
“Few could compose anything better, off¬ 
hand, than you have done.” 
“I’m glad it pleases you,” answered Paul. 
Then with a sudden change of manner, he 
said: “If you wish, I will show you where 
the birds build their nests—make their 
homes.” 
“Shall we go, Harry?” asked John with 
some eagerness, turning to his friend, “or 
^iall we fish?” 
“I don’t care, we can fish again.” 
“I know of better places to fish than 
this,” said Paul, looking wise. “Bring your 
lines along; I’ll show you where I watch 
and feed them. I have never taken any 
one there, but you are not like the rest of 
the boys; I’ll show you. Come.” 
The boys followed their guide, who led 
them up the bank where the hemlock trees 
met overhead, along paths worn in the 
shelving rocks by the hand of time, and at 
last paused close to the body of a large hem¬ 
lock, which had been broken off by storms, 
and pointing towards a straggling bough 
which still depended from the trunk, ex¬ 
claimed: 
“Awake, and hear the robin sing.” 
John and Harry, a little startled by the 
abrupt exclamation, peared ahead where 
Paul pointed, and there among the gnarled 
branches saw the nest of a robin, the head 
of the bird protruding over the edge. 
Paul now commenced to whistle—to im¬ 
itate in a low key the notes of a robin, and 
after several sharp glances from one side 
to the other, the bird hopped off its nest, 
and perching on the shattered top of the 
tree trunk, sent forth a carrol that was 
delightful to hear. 
“Bravo, Paul,” whispered John, “You 
are a veritable charmer.” 
“Hush!” returned he, motioning them 
back. “Do not make a noise. We must 
not alarm the bird, else it will leave the 
nest and the eggs will get cold.” 
Leaving the vicinity of the robin's nest 
and winding in and out among the bushes 
they soon came to a place free from under¬ 
wood. 
“Up there is a crow’s nest,” said Paul, 
showing them a large pine. “Now hide 
behind these bushes, and I will try and 
bring some crows here.” 
He commenced to “caw” like a crow, and 
soon three or four crows flew to the tree 
tops around them and set up loud cries. 
Still motioning the boys to keep quiet and 
follow, he led them a few rods further 
where a group of large trees were standing, 
and by barking after the manner of a 
squirrel, soon gave some three or four con¬ 
fidence enough to show themselves. 
“Arn’t they cunning?” said Paul in a 
whisper. “See how soon they can hide!” 
