"We were not handsome babies. I don't believe bird babies ever are beautiful at first. We had no feathers, and our mouths were so big and yellow. "We were always hungry, for we were growing very fast. Our mouths flew open at every little noise. We thought every sound was the flutter of our parents' wings. They always brought such fine food for us." The robin pecked away at his breakfast for some time before he spoke again. Then he again took up the story of his life. "How well I remember being taught to fly," he said. "How our mother coaxed us to try our wings. How timid and feeble we were One of my sisters fell to the ground and a great gray cat caught her. "Our wings were very weak then and our feathers were still short. I then had no beautiful red breast. It was just a rusty looking white spotted with black. "My mother's breast was not so red as my father's. She was of a paler colour and she sang much less than he. She was a very happy little mother, however, and she chirped very sweetly to her babies. "After we flew from the nest, and were able to look out for ourselves, my mother laid four more greenish-blue eggs in the same nest. By and bye four more young robins were chirping about in the garden. "Quite late in the season my parents were again nesting. But it was rather unfortunate that they did so. A great storm came up and a branch broke from the tree and destroyed the four blue eggs. "It was shortly after this mishap that the robins flew south for the winter. "My brother, who was always a brave, cheery fellow, thought he would rather stay here. I wonder how he fared. I have not yet seen him." "I have not seen him lately, but he was here during the winter," said Phyllis. "I dare say you will find him soon." "Well," said the robin, picking up the last grain of wheat, "I thank you, Phyllis, for this fine breakfast. "I will only say 'good morning.' I think you will see me again. Perhaps I will show you where we build our nest." "I am grateful to you," replied Phyllis. "You see the cherry-tree grows beside Jack's window. You might have sung your morning song there." THE ROBIN'S RED BREAST[1] It was very cold in the north country. The ice was thick and the snow was deep. The seal and the white bear were happy. They liked the ice, the snow, and the cutting north wind, for their fur was thick and warm. One night the great white bear climbed to the top of an immense iceberg. He looked far across the country. The fields of snow and the beautiful northern lights made the night almost as light as day. The white bear saw no living thing save a few fur-clad animals and a little gray robin chirping cheerily as it picked away at an old bone. Again the white bear looked down. Almost at the foot of the iceberg crouched a hunter and his little son. Between the two a tiny fire was blazing.