u that he knows very little
about us and our affairs," answered one of the swallows with a shrill
chirp, like a scornful laugh. "We work harder than he does any day. Did
he build his own house, I should like to know? Does he get his daily
bread for himself? How many of his neighbors does he help? How much of
the world does he see, and who is the happier for his being alive?"

"Cares indeed!" cried another; "I wish he'd undertake to feed and teach
my brood. Much he knows about the anxieties of a parent." And the little
mother bustled away to get supper for the young ones, whose bills were
always gaping wide.

"Sorrows we have, too," softly said the fourth swallow. "He would not
envy _me_, if he knew how my nest fell, and all my children were killed;
how my dear husband was shot, and my old mother died of fatigue on our
spring journey from the South."

"Dear neighbor Dart, he _would_ envy you, if he knew how patiently you
bear your troubles; how tenderly you help us with our little ones; how
cheerfully you serve your friends; how faithfully you love your lost
mate; and how trustfully you wait to meet him again in a lovelier
country than the South."

As Skim spoke, she leaned down from her nest to kiss her neighbor; and,
as the little beaks met, the other birds gave a grateful and approving
murmur, for Neighbor Dart was much beloved by all the inhabitants of
Twittertown.

"I, for my part, don't envy _him_," said Gossip Wing, who was fond of
speaking her mind. "Men and women call themselves superior beings; but,
upon my word, I think they are vastly inferior to us. Now, look at that
man, and see how he wastes his life. There never was any one with a
better chance for doing good, and being happy; and yet he mopes and
dawdles his time away most shamefully."

"Ah! he has had a great sorrow, and it is hard to be gay with a heavy
heart, an empty home; so don't be too severe, Sister Wing." And the
white tie of the little widow's cap was stirred by a long sigh as Mrs.
Dart glanced up at the nook where her nest once stood.

"No, my dear, I won't; but really I do get out of patience when I see so
much real misery which that man might help, if he'd only forget himself
a little. It's my opinion he'd be much happier than he now is, wandering
about with a dismal face and a sour temper."

"I quite agree with you; and I dare say he'd thank any one for telling
him how he may find comfort. Poor soul! I wish he could understand me;