"Poor mamma-bird! It can never have its baby bird any more," she said, with a sob of sympathy.

"Don't you feel sorry for it, Aunt Dorothy ?" "Yes, dear.

I feel very sorry for it." "And I expect the poor mamma-bird cries and cries and weeps and grieves when she comes home to supper and finds out her little children are gone forever and ever." And with her bright eyes dimmed with tears of pity, Marian, clasping a hand of each of the young ladies, walked slowly to the house still bewailing the fate of the robin.
My heart warmed toward these sweet young girls for their tender sympathy.

I almost wished I were a carrier pigeon, that I might devote myself hereafter to their service by bearing loving messages from them to their friends.
But, alas! I was to have a rude awakening from this pleasant thought.
As we flew that evening to our roosting-place, I observed to my mother that if there were no cats in the world what a delightful time we birds might have.
"You have a greater enemy than the cat," she responded sadly.

"It is true the cat is cruel and tries to kill us, but it knows no better." "If not the cat, what enemy is it ?" I asked in surprise.