losing a feather, you may think yourself well off. You have also learned a great deal, no doubt, of the ways of the world, which will help you to defend yourself bravely; but take care, the wolf often eats the most sensible little dog."

The father after this called the third son before him, and asked: "Where have you been trying your fortune, little one?"

"On the streets and highways," he replied; "for there they draw up large sackfuls of corn by ropes, and a few grains of wheat or barley are sure to be dropped for us."

"I can quite understand," said the father bird; "but still you must keep a sharp lookout, for otherwise, if a stone should be thrown, there would be an end of you."

"I am aware of that," said the young bird, "especially if you are near a wall, or see anyone put his hand in his pocket or his bosom." 'Where have you learned your wisdom, then?" asked the father.

66

"Among the mountaineers, dear father, who, when they travel, carry secretly stones with them.”

"Mountain people! working people! striking people! Have you been with the mountain lads? Then indeed you have seen and learned something."

At last the father called over his youngest son, and said to him: "My dear little nestling, you who were always the simplest and weakest, stay here with me now. In the world are many rough and wicked birds, with crooked beaks and long claws, who lie in wait for little birds to gobble them up, so you had better stay here with your own relations, and pick up the spiders and caterpillars from the trees or houses, and you will be safe and contented."

"My father," replied the little bird, "you have lived and been fed in safety all your life; people have never hurt you, nor has any hawk or kite, or other bird of prey, been near you to do you injury, and this is because the great God has sent you food morning and evening. For he is the Creator and Preserver of all the birds of the forest or the city, and he hears the young ravens when they cry, and not even

a sparrow can fall to the ground without his permission."

"My son," said the old bird, "where did you learn all this?"

"I will tell you," he replied. "When the great storm of wind separated us from you, I was driven into a church, and remained there all the summer, living upon the flies and spiders. Once I heard these words preached, and it was the Father of all the sparrows who gave me food during the summer, and preserved me from injury and from fierce birds."

"Truly, my son," replied his father, "if you fly to a church, and help to clear it from spiders and summer flies, and chirp to God like the young ravens do, and will trust in him, as your own Creator, then you will be safe, even if the whole world were full of ravenous and malicious creatures."

- GRIMM'S FAIRY TALES.

dê çêit' ful

rǎv' en oŭs

moun tain ēers'

ma li' cious (shus)

THE INVITATION.

Years ago, when quite a youth, I was rambling in the woods one day with my brothers, gathering black birch and wintergreens.

As we lay upon the ground, gazing vaguely up into the trees, I caught sight of a bird, the like of which I had never before seen or heard of. It was the blue yellow-backed warbler, which I have found since; but to my young fancy it seemed like some fairy bird, so curiously marked was it, and so new and unexpected. I saw it a moment as the flickering leaves parted, noted the white spot on its wing, and it was gone.

It was a revelation. It was the first intimation I had had that the woods we knew so well held birds that we knew not at all. Were our eyes and ears so dull? Did we pass by the beautiful things in nature without seeing them? Had we been blind then? There were the robin, the bluejay, the yellowbird, and others familiar to everyone; but

who ever dreamed that there were still others

that not even the hunters saw, and whose names few had ever heard?

The surprise that awaits every close observer of birds, the thrill of delight that accompanies it, and the feeling of fresh, eager inquiry that follows, can hardly be awakened by any other pursuit.

There is a fascination about it quite overpowering. It fits so well with other things -with fishing, hunting, farming, walking, camping-out-with all that takes one to the fields and the woods. One may go blackberrying and make some rare discovery; or, while driving his cow to pasture, hear a new song, or make a new observation. Secrets lurk on all sides. There is news in every bush. Expectation is ever on tiptoe. What no man ever saw may the next moment be revealed to you.

What a new interest this gives to the woods! How you long to explore every nook and corner of them! One must taste it to understand. The looker-on sees nothing to make such a fuss about. Only a little glimpse of feathers and a half-musical note