opening and shutting of the window had frightened the Blackbird; 18 he had flown to a more distant bush; but as the more courageous Robin only fluttered about for a moment, the Blackbird soon came back, and in less than a minute the Robin was upon the gravel path hard at work picking up the dainty white crumbs. The Blackbird still hesitated on the laurel branch, loth to remain, yet fearful to advance, but at last, impelled by a sudden pang of hunger, he ventured to join his red-breasted friend.

It was a most luxurious repast; never before had the Blackbird tasted food half so delicious. It is true that he got one or two frights, for once the little girl was so delighted at the sight of both birds devouring the crumbs, that she banged her little fat hands against the window-pane, dancing at the same time with delight. This gambol fairly startled their feathered guests, and frightened them away for a minute or two, but they were soon back again, and then the Blackbird saw that the boy was carefully holding his sister’s hands to keep her quiet.

Each morning found the little eager faces waiting at the window, and each morning also found the two expectant birds perched on the laurel-bushes. The 19 feathered company was soon swelled by the arrival of some impudent and very quarrelsome sparrows, a pair of chaffinches, and a darling little blue titmouse, who, with his cousin a cole-titmouse, soon became quite at their ease. By common consent all the other birds avoided the sparrows. “They are common, idle creatures, you know,” said the Robin, “and none of us care to associate with such low, vulgar birds.”

The Blackbird, through the kindness of his little friend the Robin, soon got acquainted with many other birds, and indeed he grew quite intimate with a gaily apparelled Goldfinch. However, notwithstanding all this, the Blackbird found it difficult to make friends, and could never be quite so much at his ease as his more sociable red-breasted companion.

One day the Robin confided to the Blackbird a great discovery that he and the Goldfinch had made. They had come upon a large barn, and there, close to the roof, they had found a small hole. It was very small indeed, but, after some hesitation, they had squeezed through it, and had found themselves in a large room filled with huge sacks of corn, oats and barley. Their delight at this discovery was 20 not to be described, any more than the feast they subsequently made. Mice, and even rats, were scampering about in every direction, gnawing holes in the sacks, and getting into all manner of mischief.

“We were afraid of the rats at first,” said the Robin, “but we soon found that they were much too busy to trouble their heads about us. The Goldfinch is very anxious that the sparrows should not find out this barn. They are greedy and quarrelsome, and would keep it all to themselves, and try to turn us out.”

The Blackbird soon found his way to the corn sacks, but he and his friends were uncommonly circumspect whenever they met any sparrows. They would even pretend that they were going in quite another direction; they would fly straight by the barn, and then wait patiently in a neighbouring tree or hedgerow, and not return till they were certain of not being noticed.

It must be confessed that the process of squeezing through the small dark hole was not altogether an agreeable arrangement, it sadly disturbed our smart friend’s smooth, glossy feathers. The mice too, to say 21 nothing of the rats, were not congenial companions. But the corn was so good that it made amends for all these drawbacks.

Thus the winter passed by very happily, and what with the berries, red and black, the corn, and best of all, the crumbs, the Blackbird never wanted for food.

Not the least pleasant part of the day was the morning, when he paid his visit to the bay window, where the little children were always ready for him. No wonder he grew very fond of them, and soon learnt their names, “Willie” and “Alice,” which he would often repeat to himself as he fell asleep in the ivy, and thought of the little boy and girl fast asleep too, and of the happy meeting which they were all looking forward to in the morning.

END OF CHIRP THE FIRST.

22

The days were certainly becoming longer and less cold, the snow had altogether disappeared, and somehow the sun seemed, to the Blackbird, to get up earlier and go to bed later. He noticed also, about this time, that little shaft-like leaves were beginning to peep through the grass, and that the beech and hazel twigs were swelling into small knobs. He also felt that there was something different in himself––a change––he was stronger and happier, and he was seized with an irresistible desire to sing. The hoarseness which had tried him so much during the winter months had gone, and his throat was once more clear.

A week passed by, the little knobs on the trees began to open and discover small, tender leaves, and 23 between the green spear-like shoots in the grass delicate stems had come up bearing white drooping flowers.

One morning the Blackbird discussed all these changes with the Robin; and the Rook, who happened to be flying by, was called in to assist at their council.

“You are surprised at all these changes, my young friends,” he said; “did I not tell you that the seasons never fail? This is the Spring, the time when everything comes forth to new life. The snow has overspread the earth and kept it warm all these months. It has covered the bulbs of the snowdrops, those white flowers that you so greatly admire, friend Blackbird. It covered them up carefully till the proper time arrived that they should spring forth. In the same way the buds on the trees have been wrapped up in their brown coats and kept warm during the bitter winter weather, and now that the sun is once more shining, the said brown coats are beginning to drop off, for the little green leaves are pushing their way into the world of warmth and sunshine. And then, not the least interesting change, your song has once 24 more returned to you, the woods are full of sweet music,––ay, and you will see yet greater wonders, for truly ‘the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land.’”

Yes, the Rook was quite right; each day now brought about some fresh wonder––a few more green leaves, a few more white flowers; and presently between the snowdrop plants came up the slender green leaves, and the gold and purple blossoms of the crocus.

About this time, too, the Blackbird noticed that many of his feathered friends were unusually busy. They seemed to have no time for talk. He met them flying hither and thither with feathers, small pieces of straw, or twigs, in their beaks. About this time also, the Blackbird himself felt a strong desire to have a nest of his own. But how could he build it by himself? He must find a partner to share his labours––and where could he find such a partner? He was almost in despair, so at last he determined to