her
bound it up carefully, so that it did not seem to pain him, and he was
so gentle that he took a drink of water from a cup, and even ate
crumbs and seeds out of Piccola's hands. She was a proud little girl
when she took her Christmas present to show the children in the
garden. They had had a great many gifts,--dolls that could say
"mamma," bright picture books, trains of cars, toy pianos; but not one
of their playthings was alive, like Piccola's birdling. They were as
pleased as she, and Rose hunted about the house until she found a
large wicker cage that belonged to a blackbird she once had. She gave
the cage to Piccola, and the swallow seemed to make himself quite at
home in it at once, and sat on the perch winking his bright eyes at
the children. Rose had saved a bag of candies for Piccola, and when
she went home at last, with the cage and her dear swallow safely
inside it, I am sure there was not a happier little girl in the whole
country of Italy.

[*] From "The Story Hour," by Wiggins and Smith. Published by consent
of the authors and also the publishers--Houghton, Mifflin and Company.

THE SHEPHERD'S STORY[*]

Washington Gladden

"Bring hither that sheepskin, Joseph, and lay it down on this bank of
dry earth, under this shelving rock. The wind blows chilly from the
west, but the rock will shelter us. The sky is fair and the moon is
rising, and we can sit here and watch the flocks on the hillside
below. Your young blood and your father's coat of skins will keep you
warm for one watch, I am sure. At midnight, my son, your father,
Reuben, and his brother James will take our places; for the first
watch the old man and the boy will tend the sheep."

"Yes, grandfather; you shall sit in that snug corner of the rock,
where you can lean back and take your comfort. I will lie here at your
feet. Now and then I will run to see whether the sheep are wandering,
and that will warm me, if I grow cold."

"Have you never been out on the hills at night with your father?"

"Never, grandfather. I have often begged him to let me come; but he
kept saying that I must wait until I was twelve years old. On the last
full moon was my birthday and today, when he returned from Bethlehem
to the flocks, he brought me with him."

"So this is the lad's first night with the sheep in the fields, and
the old man's last night, I fear," said the aged shepherd, sadly. "It
is not often in these days that I venture out to keep the wa