But the parent-birds seemed to know which of the children had not had a full share; for they would always give it to those who needed it most.

But one day, one sad day, a man came by with his cart, and, seeing the nest, took it with all the little birdies, and placed it on some straw in his cart.

The parent-birds, wild with grief, flew round and round, but it was of no use.  Then they followed the cart, and continued to feed their young as well as they could, though the cart was in motion.

But a little girl, whose name was Laura, and who was taking a walk with her mother, saw the man remove the nest, and at once made up her mind to try and get it away from him.

So she went up, and asked him if he would let her have the nest, if she paid him for it.  The man seemed a little ashamed when he saw Laura and her mother; and he replied, “Well, little girl, it didn’t cost me any thing, and so you may have it for nothing.”

“Oh, I thank you ever so much!” cried Laura.  So she took the nest, with the birdies in it; and then she and her mother found a safe place in the notch of a tree, hidden from the road, and there they placed it.

Then they walked away, and stood at a distance, and watched till they saw the parent-birds fly down from a high branch to their own nest, and again begin to feed their little ones.  How they twittered and chirped with joy!  The feeling that she had made the birds happy made Laura happy too.

Every day, for a week, she came to see how the little family were getting on.  On the eighth day the nest was empty.  They had all flown away.

EMILY CARTER

THE FIRST BLUE-BIRD.

    Gold-Locks thought just now,
    Out on the apple-bough
      Had fallen a bit of the sky. 
    “Blue it is; oh, blue! 
      And large as my hand,” she cried. 
      Ah, what a wonder-eyed
    Dear happy heart are you,
    With all the world so new,
     So bright, because untried!

    Out I hurried to see
    What the bit of sky might be,
      When a tender piping note,
    Soft as a flute, I heard;
      And there upon a bough,
      Wintry and bare till now,
    In a sky-colored coat,
    Trying his little throat,
      Was perched the first blue-bird.

CLARA DOTY BATES.

THE LITTLE BIRD.

Words by LORD LYTTON.

Music by T. CRAMPTON.

[Music]

    1.

    The lit-tle bird fares well in Spring,
      For all she wants she finds enough,
    And ev’ry casual common thing
      She makes her own without rebuff.

    2.

    First wool and hair from sheep and cow;
      Then twig and straw to bind them fast,
    From thicket and from thatch, and now,
      A little nest is built at last.