A boy was walking with his mother; he saw a bird fly past, with some
food in its mouth.
_Boy._ Is not that bird hungry? for I see that he carries his meat
fast in his mouth.
_Mother._ She is a mother bird, and has young ones in her nest.
_Boy._ Who makes the nest?
_Mother._ The old birds.
_Boy._ How do they make the nests?
_Mother._ Some make their nests of sticks; some of dry leaves; some use
clay; some straw: they use all sorts of things; each kind of bird knows
what is fit for its use.
_Boy._ What do they make nests for?
_Mother._ To nurse their young in.
_Boy._ And are they warm?
_Mother._ The old birds line them with moss, with wool, or with
feathers, to make them warm and soft.
_Boy._ Where do they get all these things?
_Mother._ They fly a great way to fetch them; and sometimes they pluck
their own breasts to supply down for their young to lie upon.
_Boy._ How kind they are!
_Mother._ So kind are good parents to their children.
_Boy._ Pray why do the birds sing?
_Mother._ One old bird sings whilst one sits on the eggs.
_Boy._ Why do they sit on the eggs?
_Mother._ To keep them warm, so that they may hatch.
_Boy._ What do you mean by that, pray, mother?
_Mother._ The young birds break the shells and come out.
_Boy._ What do they do then? do they fly?
_Mother._ Not at first: babes, you know, cannot walk.
_Boy._ But what do young birds do?
_Mother._ They lie in the nests, and gape for food.
_Boy._ And do they get it?
_Mother._ The old birds fly far and near to fetch it. You saw one with
some in its bill.
_Boy._ I see a bird now with some in its mouth.
_Mother._ Do not make a noise, lest you fright the poor thing.—Hush!
hush!—let us creep gently, and see the bird go to her nest.
_They saw the bird alight on a bush just by: she hopped from twig to
twig till she got to the nest: she gave the little worm which she had
in her beak to her young, and then flew away in search of more._
_Boy._ Now may I talk?
_Mother._ Yes, my dear;—are you not pleased to see the birds?
_Boy._ Yes, mother.—When will the little ones fly?
_Mother._ When they have got all their feathers.
_Boy._ How will they learn?
_Mother._ The old birds will teach them to fly as I taught you to walk.
_Boy._ I hope the little birds will always love their mothers. I shall
always love you; mother, pray kiss me.
[Illustration: Sheep]