ds, there is no
sunshine to speak of, and it's altogether exceedingly dull."

The Robin did not exactly know how to reply to this wail of discontent,
so he gathered himself together and poured forth a bright little song.

"How is it," said the Blackbird suddenly, "that you have all at once
become such a great songster? I never remember hearing your voice in the
summer."

"Ah, that's it," replied the Robin, "many people think I only sing in
the winter, but in reality I sing quite as well, and better too, for
that matter, in the summer. The truth is that it's very difficult for
me to make myself heard when the larks are singing so gloriously, and
the thrushes, and the nightingales--not to speak of yourself," said the
Robin, turning round politely. "Now, however," he continued, "there are
so few woodland notes, that I think my poor little pipe may be more
welcome, and I do my best."

Again the Robin carolled, and as the Blackbird listened he said, with a
certain air of respect, "You are a good little bird, Mr. Robin, and I
feel the better for having heard your song; all the same, however, if we
are to have much of this wretched snow, I should just like to know what
I am to do for my food?"

His song ended, the Robin had been preparing to fly away, but at these
words he drew in his little brown wings again, and said, "I hope we may
meet again in a few days, and that you may then be happier than you are
just now. In the meantime, however, it may be a help to you to hear
something which my good friend the old Rook once told me, and which I
have never forgotten. He said that the great God Who made you and me,
and the snow, and everybody and everything, would never forget any of
us, for He not only thinks of us, but, can you believe it, not one of
those poor little sparrows falls to the ground without His knowing it.
We don't think much of the sparrows," continued the Robin, "they are
low, mischievous creatures, but God feeds them, so I'm sure He won't let
us starve. I'm only a very small bird myself, but the thought that I'm
taken care of makes me feel very happy."

Then away flew the Robin, leaving the Blackbird on the bare branch, with
much to think about. He had heard many new and startling things that
morning, and now as he gazed at the snow-covered world, it was with a
happier feeling; the little Robin's discourse had not been altogether
thrown away.

It was getting late, and as yet the Blackbird had had no breakf