for I sympathize with him, and would gladly help him if I could."

And, as she spoke, kind-hearted Widow Dart skimmed by him with a
friendly chirp, which did comfort him; for, being a poet, he _could_
understand them, and lay listening, well pleased while the little
gossips chattered on together.

"I am so tied at home just now, that I know nothing of what is going on,
except the bits of news Skim brings me; so I enjoy your chat immensely.
I'm interested in your views on this subject, and beg you'll tell me
what you'd have that man do to better himself," said Mrs. Skim, settling
herself on her eggs with an attentive air.

"Well, my dear, I'll tell you; for I've seen a deal of the world, and
any one is welcome to my experience," replied Mrs. Wing, in an important
manner; for she was proud of her "views," and very fond of talking. "In
my daily flights about the place, I see a great deal of poverty and
trouble, and often wish I could lend a hand. Now, this man has plenty of
money and time; and he might do more good than I can tell, if he'd only
set about it. Because he is what they call a poet is no reason he should
go moaning up and down, as if he had nothing to do but make songs. We
sing, but we work also; and are wise enough to see the necessity of
both, thank goodness!"

"Yes, indeed, we do," cried all the birds in a chorus; for several more
had stopped to hear what was going on.

"Now, what I say is this," continued Mrs. Wing impressively. "If I were
that man, I'd make myself useful at once. There is poor little Will
getting more and more lame every day, because his mother can't send him
where he can be cured. A trifle of that man's money would do it, and he
ought to give it. Old Father Winter is half starved, alone there in his
miserable hovel; and no one thinks of the good old man. Why don't that
lazy creature take him home, and care for him, the little while he has
to live? Pretty Nell is working day and night, to support her father,
and is too proud to ask help, though her health and courage are going
fast. The man might make hers the gayest heart alive, by a little help.
There in a lonely garret lives a young man studying his life away,
longing for books and a teacher. The man has a library full, and might
keep the poor boy from despair by a little help and a friendly word. He
mourns for his own lost baby: I advise him to adopt the orphan whom
nobody will own, and who lies wailing all day untended on the poo