Oh, we love the downy snow, ’Tis a messenger of love, Sent to grace the world below By our God who reigns above; Sent to keep the flowers warm Till the wintry storms are o’er, And to gladden youthful hearts With their beauty evermore. CHAPTER XVI. A STORY FOR THE CHILDREN. In the outskirts of a large city, a little way out in the cool and pleasant country, there stands a little one-story house, which was once painted a light yellow, but which time and storm have turned to a dull, brown color. A little plot of ground attached, shaded by one noble oak tree, seemed turned into a perfect fairy bower of red and gold and green and purple, when summer suns shone down upon its beds of blooming four-o’clocks, correopsis, and larkspurs, in their setting of dainty foliage. All day long, the birds warbled or twittered to each other in the tree-top, where a nest of young robins was safely hidden from the prying eyes of too curious school-boys. Such stores of wonderful seeds, buds, and flowers did these birds know of at a no-distant place; such cherries and berries, which they could enjoy to their hearts’ content, after carefully providing for their half-famished young! But of all the delightful spots these joyful birds had visited, not one seemed so suitable for their home as the plumy tops of this old oak tree, which cast its genial shade over the little old brown house, and here a nest was built,—five little, spotted eggs were carefully covered up by the mother-bird, which by-and-bye burst open and disclosed five little hungry bills, wide apart, gasping for food. What a happy summer was this! Father Robin bustling about, looking very important, bringing a dainty worm or toothsome berry to feed his children upon, or perching upon the topmost bough of the tree, and filling the air with the music of his joyful songs; while the dainty, careful mother, prudent Mrs. Jenny, anxiously watched her little ones, lest some harm should come to them, or talked to them in her quaint bird-fashion, with now and then a little chirp of encouragement, when one would attempt to try its wings for a tiny flight amid the leaves. But I have something to tell you about the inmates of the little old brown house, which contained two tiny rooms, a kitchen and a bed-room. The floors of these rooms were always white and shining; pretty pink curtains hung at the windows, a few chairs, a table and a little stove were in the outer room; while the inner apartment contained a neat, white bed, a stand, and one chair.