thers of which thou art so proud and so unworthy adorn thee.
Thy color shall be the streaked black and white of shadows, thy life a
hard one. And thy nest, however well builded, shall be open to the
storm."

These were almost the last words which the Saviour spoke. After that,
when the Lord was laid in the sepulchre, the faithful Robin still
watched beside Him for those three dread days until He rose on Easter
morning, when the little bird rejoiced with all nature at the wondrous
happening. And again on Ascension Day he paid his last tribute to the
risen Master, joining his little song with the chorus of the angels
themselves in the gladdest Hosanna which the universe had ever heard.

This explains how the Magpie became a restless, noisy, black-and-white
bird as we know her to this day, having lost all her brilliant beauty
through the wickedness of her heart. But the pious Robin still wears
upon his breast the beautiful feathers stained red with his Master's
blood. And all that the Saviour foretold of him has come true. He is the
blessed bird whom children everywhere love and of whom they still repeat
these old verses:--

"The Robin and the Redbreast,
The Robin and the Wren,
If ye take out of the nest
Ye'll never thrive again.
The Robin and the Redbreast,
The Martin and the Swallow,
If ye touch one of their eggs
Bad luck is sure to follow."

THE ROBIN WHO WAS AN INDIAN

The name of Robin makes us think at once of the jolliest and most
sociable of all our little brother birds. In every land the name is a
favorite, and wherever he goes he brings happiness and kind feeling.

The American Robin is not the same bird as his English cousin, though
both have red breasts.

It was in a different manner that our little American friend came to
have the ruddy waistcoat which we know so well.

There was a time, so the Indians say, a very early time, long, long
before Columbus discovered America,--even before histories began to be
written,--when there were no Robins.

In those days in the land of the Ojibways, which is far in the north of
the cold country, there lived an old Indian chief who had one son, named
Iadilla. Now among the Ojibways, when a boy was almost big enough to
become a warrior, before he could go out with the other braves to the
hunt or to war, there was a great trial which he must undergo. Other
lands and peoples have known similar customs. You rememb