Robins are not very often to be seen in the summer, for they fly far into the depths of woods and lonely places to rear their young. So amongst the chorus of sweet singers who make melody when leaves are green it is not very common to hear the voice of the robin, though he is said to sing very constantly by the side of his mate, whilst she sits upon her eggs or broods over her young ones. But in autumn, Robin comes nearer the abode of man, and it is difficult then in country places to skirt a field or wander in a lane, without seeing a brisk little bird with ruby breast perched upon the hedgerow, pouring forth a sweet and gentle song. This is the robin, and we love his notes all the more at a time when few other birds still sing. Nay, even in the winter when, the Nightingale and many other warblers have left our shores to spend the chilly months in some warmer climate, the robin only draws nearer to our homes, makes his abode in our gardens, pecks up the crumbs at our very doors, nay, often finds his way into our houses, and rewards every kindness shewn to him with the same sweet flood of song that he poured forth amidst the woods in the days of summer. Many very pretty stories are told of different robins who have been tamed by kindness until they seemed to lose almost all that fear of man which is generally so striking in birds. "The birds of heaven before us fleet." I have heard of one who came to live almost entirely in the chamber of a sick gentleman, and grew very fond of ground rice pudding, which was a favourite invalid dish. But the out-door feeding of robins is not so dainty in general, and I am sorry to tell you that, by those who have taken pains to watch robins, and study their wild habits, these birds are found not only to prey on live worms, which is natural enough, but also to spend much time and trouble to prepare the poor things for food, in a way that must be any thing but agreeable to the victims. For the robin does not eat the whole worm, only the outer skin, and, to get rid of the inner part, Mr. Robin takes the worm in his bill and dashes it about on a stone with great skill until he has effected his purpose. He is also a very pugnacious bird; that is he is very fond of fighting, I am sorry to tell you, but such is really the case. He will not allow other robins to build in the same bush with him. He never joins himself in friendly company with his fellows, and on occasion he can fight very heartily: so heartily that a lady who writes much that is delightful, of birds, and amongst them of robins, tells the following story. She was once sitting with a family party, when a cat rushed in with two robins in her mouth, which she had pounced upon in the garden whilst they were engaged in such a desperate battle that they did not see their enemy at hand. One head stuck out at each side of puss's mouth, but of course she was instantly seized and forced to let go her prey, when both robins flew away as if not much hurt.