He soon moved his nest from the thicket near his cousin Wood-thrush to the apple-tree next to Bluebird’s home. This caused so much hard feeling between Robin and Wood-thrush that they have ever since built their nests in very different localities. But this isn’t all, and here comes the event which changed the former’s whole life. Until this time Robin had always worn a spotted breast, but no sooner did he move to his new home than he decided to have a vest of red like Bluebird’s. But with all his pains he could not make himself as handsome as his cousin, for, like many folks when they try to imitate others, he overdid it. Instead of Bluebird’s delicate tint of carmine, he had taken on a less pretty though showier red, and, unlike the other, he wore it over his entire breast in a way that made some folks say that he showed very poor taste, indeed. Now, at this last assumption of Robin, Birdland was outraged, and the indignation spread so widely that Kingbird had almost decided to banish him. It was not until then that Robin, terrified at the suggestion, saw how foolish he had been, and he very quickly came to his senses. First of all, he went around to all his old friends whose feelings he had hurt and apologized so sincerely that, we are happy to say, every one of them, except, perhaps, Wood-thrush, who could not forget the red vest, were glad to extend a friendly wing to him, now that he had gotten over his sudden pride. But we, who are better acquainted with him, must admit that Robin never did quite conquer his pride. Everybody knows that he is one of the best hearted of birds, and that whenever any danger threatens Birdland he is always among the first to defend it. But the influence of Bluebird has refined him to such an extent that there is little doubt in our mind that he still thinks his other cousins, the Thrushes, in spite of their splendid musical ability, are backwoodsmen, so to speak. Fortunately, however, there is one thing which will forever keep him from forgetting his plainer kinsmen, and that is the fact that his children, until they are several months old, are made to wear the same spotted plumage which he once wore. And it is this which shows Robin’s pride more than anything else. Should you approach his nest when it contains young, you will see how mortified he is, for he fears that you will take them for Wood-thrushes. And what a fuss he does make? He flies almost in our faces, as if to show us that they are his children. And how anxious his voice is as he calls to them to “Speak! speak!” Just as if young Robins could tell us that they are not Wood-thrushes! THE OLDEST COLLEGES