ring, and shook herself from head to foot. "I feel greatly refreshed," said she, after new oiling her feathers.

At the request of Katy, she then exhibited her accomplishments to the wondering parents, and having ended by a thrilling song, they gave her their best wishes, and took their leave.

In the mean time, Mr. Symmes, his wife, grandpa, and Annie sat down to their breakfast, though wondering that Fred, who had been sent of an errand, did not return. They had nearly finished their meal, when Annie saw him running toward the house, his face all in a blaze of excitement.

He held in his hand a bird's nest; and, as he entered, took a wounded sparrow from his bosom.

"Father," he exclaimed, "isn't it real wicked to steal little birds from their nest?"

"Certainly, my son."

"Well, Joseph Marland and Edward Long have been doing it all the morning, and they say it isn't wicked at all. As I was coming 'cross lots through Deacon Myers's pasture, I heard some boys laughing very loud; and I ran to see what the fun was. They had taken all the young birds from the nest, and the poor parents were flying around chirping and crying in dreadful distress.

"'Don't tease the birds so,' said I; 'put the little things back and come away.'

"'No, indeed!' shouted Joseph; 'after all the trouble we've had, we don't give up so easy.' And only think, grandpa, they didn't want the young sparrows for any thing,—only they liked the sport of seeing the old birds hop round and round.

"I got real angry at last, and said I wouldn't have any thing to do with such wicked, cruel boys. I started to run away, when they saw Deacon Myers driving his cow to the pasture, and they sneaked off about the quickest. After they had gone, I picked up the nest and this poor bird from the ground."

"Let me see it," said Mr. Symmes, holding out his hand; "and you sit down and eat your breakfast."

He left the room immediately, carrying the sparrow with him. Presently Annie came back with tears in her eyes, saying her father had killed it, to put it out of pain.

"I was afraid it couldn't live," rejoined Fred. "Ugly boys! I am glad they don't know of our robins' nest."

"Such cruelty always meets with its punishment," remarked grandpa. "I myself knew a man who, when a boy, delighted to rob birds' nests. Sometimes he stole the eggs, and sometimes he waited until they were hatched, that he might have the greater fun. Then he took the poor, helpless, unoffending things, and dug out their eyes, to see how awkwardly they would hop around."

"Shocking!" exclaimed Mrs. Symmes.

"He ought to have been hung!" shouted Fred.

Annie pressed both hands over her eyes, and turned very pale.

"Well," resumed grandpa, "he grew to be a man, was married and settled in life; and now came God's time to punish him. He had one child after another until they numbered five. Three of them, two daughters and one son, were born stone blind.

"He was a man coarse and rough in his feelings, as a cruel man will always be; but this affliction cut him to the heart, and when it was announced to him that the third child would never open its eyes to the light of the sun, he threw up his arms and cried aloud, 'O God, have mercy on me, though I had none on the poor birds!'

"Never before had he made the slightest allusion to his former cruelty, except to his wife, though it seemed by this expression, that he had always regarded it as a judgment."

CHAPTER III.

JACK ROBIN'S CART.

A few days after this, it rained very hard. The children were of course confined to the house, though Annie pleaded to go with her father to the barn.

After standing for some time gazing from the window, to watch the drops following each other down the glass, she saw Mr. and Mrs. Robin springing from one bough to another, chirping contentedly.

"I wonder they can be so happy when it rains," she thought. "I mean to make some paper dolls, and then perhaps I shan't think so much about staying in doors."

She ran quickly up stairs, and brought down a large box full of pasteboard, and pieces of paper of various colors.

Grandpa sat reading by the kitchen fire, as the rain made the air damp, and Fred held a book in his hand. He was not reading, however; his eyes were wandering listlessly around the room. When he saw his little sister, his face brightened, and he asked, "Don't you want me to cut you out some new dollies?"

"Thank you," she exclaimed, her whole countenance lighting up with smiles.

The next hour passed swiftly, as the brother and sister cut babies and houses for them to live in, and carriages in which they could ride. Fred had just finished quite an ingenious contrivance, a little pasteboard cart, with wheels and shafts all in order, when tap, tap, went somebody at the door.

"That's our robin," cried Annie, springing up to go and let him in.

True enough, it was Jack Robin, looking as drenched as a drowned rat.

"O, see how wet he is! I mean to take him to the fire," said the little girl.

"Set him on the floor, and he'll shake himself dry in a minute," answered grandpa. "Birds have an oily covering," he added, "which turns the water off and prevents it from soaking in. Look now at robin; you would scarce know he had been wet at all. If it were not for this wise provision of Providence, thousands of birds would be chilled to death by every shower. Take a duck or goose after he has been swimming in the water. After a moment, he is as dry as if he had not been near the pond."

"O grandpa," exclaimed Annie, "will you please to tell us a story to-day?"

"I'll try and think of one after dinner," replied the old gentleman. "I wish to finish this book this morning."

When the little girl returned to her brother, she found the whole family of robins there. Fred was busy fastening a piece of cord into the front of the pasteboard cart, and