Poor little Rosy! She loved so much to watch the little birds and hear them sing! And when she thought of this dear robin being shot quite dead, and that perhaps there was a nest somewhere with little ones who would have no mamma, she began to cry, and to call the man "a cruel fellow." She was not much comforted by being told that such little birds were eaten there; so that if the man could shoot one, he would get some money for it which might buy bread for his little ones. But she was rather glad to hear that the little robins must be able by that time of year to take care of themselves, and had left the nest some time; and much more pleased, when, soon after, she saw the dear robin fly right away, so that the man with the gun was not likely to shoot that one at any rate. Then papa said, "I shouldn't wonder if mamma would like to go out this morning. Shall we go back and see?" [Illustration: "Rosy was very much pleased when soon after she saw the robin fly right away."] Rosy thought that would be very nice; and then her papa lifted up his little girl, and showed her all the beautiful hills that were behind them. There were some that had peaked tops, and some rather roundish; and just in one place she could see some hills a very long way off, that seemed to climb right up into the sky and were all white on the top. He told her that those hills were called mountains, because they were so very high,--a great deal too high for Rosy to walk up, and that the white stuff which she saw was snow. "We don't have snow when it is warm in England, Rosy, do we?" said papa, "nor yet here, but up there, you see, it is so cold that the snow never melts. Those are called 'the snow Alps.'" Rosy had nearly forgotten the poor birds now, because there were so many other things to think about. She saw some poppies a little way off, and then some blue flowers; and they were so pretty that she was quite obliged to stop a good many times to pick some for dear mamma. The wind was very high too, and it blew little Rosy's hat right off, so that papa and she had both to run after it. Mamma was ready for a walk when they got in, but she staid to put Rosy's flowers in water; and they looked very gay and pretty. Nurse and every one admired them; and Rosy said that she was not a bit tired, and was quite sure that she could go for another long, long walk. But papa said that though Rosy might be a little horse, her mamma was not, and that it was a long way to the town and to the shops where she wanted to go; so he would go and get a carriage for them. Now, though Rosy certainly was very tired of trains, she found a basket pony-carriage a very different thing, and enjoyed her ride so much that she was obliged to change pretty often from her mamma's lap to her papa's and back again, just because she was too happy to sit still.