"The north winds do blow,
And we shall have snow,
What will poor Robin do till spring,
Poor thing, poor thing!
He will go to the barn,
And keep himself warm,
And put his head under his wing,
Poor thing, poor thing."
Thus sang little Emily, as she sat one bleak morning looking out from
her mamma's window, watching the faded leaves dance along before the
wind. Do you not know how she felt as she sat that morning, in a snug
parlor, with her high-backed chair placed close against the window,
listening to the whistling of the winds, and looking now and then,
toward the cold dark sky? I am sure I know just how she felt, as she
sang those simple words about the robin, for I have often felt in the
same manner myself. Emily was a tender-hearted child, and she loved
the robin red-breast very dearly: indeed there was not anything which
she did not love; for she often said to her mamma, "Everything
belongs to God; therefore I ought to love everything." And so I
believe she did. On that morning after she had been singing her little
song, she said, "Dear mamma, I wish I could find all the robin
red-breasts in the country, that I might keep them in my chamber
through the wintry season, until the bright spring days return. Then,
mamma, I would throw open the windows, and watch the happy little
creatures spread their wings, and go out into the bright world again."
Was not Emily a kind little girl?
[Illustration]