from his home in
the meadow, to make them a call. He does not like Honeysuckleville
quite as well as his dwelling in the grass, just above the water. If
he was not so confirmed in his habits, I think he would be strongly
tempted to become a neighbour of the robins. A few weeks ago, when his
favourite resort was five or six feet under water, he and his friends
seemed to be in great uncertainty what course to pursue. They had
several mass meetings on the quince-bushes, in full sight of
Honeysuckleville, and a great many speeches were made. It sounded to
me like incessant chattering, and as if all were talking at the same
time. I could not understand a word they said, and I cannot tell you
the result of their deliberations. Whatever it may have been, when the
water subsided, they returned to their old haunts by the river-side.

These I have mentioned are not the only visitors whose society our
friends enjoy. The swallows gracefully skim through the air, and greet
them with their merry voices. The wren often favours them with one of
his sweetest melodies, and the blue-bird flies around the corner to
sing a song on the walnut-tree. He has a curious little nest of his
own, hidden away under the eaves. The cat-birds, of course, are always
near, as they live in the lilacs. The oriole has suspended his nest,
like a basket, from a limb of the great pear-tree; and when the robins
know how to fly, they can return some of his visits.

The old robins, now and then, play peep with the young birds. They fly
almost up to the nest, and poise themselves for an instant on the
wing, just long enough to say, "Bo-peep!" and then away! almost before
they can be seen. Pretty soon they return again, generally bringing
some nice morsel with them. They often first alight on a small branch
of the vine, below the nest, and then hop up to it.

What a chirping the birdlings keep up with their mother! They like to
talk as well as Eddie Dudley and some other children, whom I have
heard pleasantly called little chatter-boxes. Children have much to
learn, and must ask many questions. The world is new and strange to
them, and is a constant source of surprise and wonder. I do not
suppose people ever learn faster than before they are six years old,
or ever learn more in the same length of time. They are constantly
observing, and in this way the stock of their ideas is continually
increasing. I once heard a gentleman say he did not like to go
through the w