I am sure she will show them to you with pleasure." What was their surprise to find the poor little brown lark sitting on them, with rumpled feathers, drooping head, and trembling limbs! 66 "Ah! my pretty eggs!" said the lark, as soon as she could speak. They must be trodden on! They will certainly be found!" What is the matter?" asked the grasshopper. "Perhaps we can help you." "Dear grasshopper," said the lark, "I have just heard the farmer and his son talking on the other side of the hedge. The farmer said that tomorrow morning he should begin to cut his 'meadow." "That is a great pity," said the grasshopper. "What a sad thing it was that you laid your eggs on the ground!" "Larks always do," said the poor little brown bird. "Oh, my pretty eggs! I shall never hear my little nestlings chirp!" So the poor lark moaned, and neither the grasshopper nor the fairy could do anything to help her. IV At last her mate dropped down from the white cloud where he had been singing, and inquired in great fright what the matter was. They told him, and at first he was very much shocked. Presently he lifted first one and then the other of his feet, and examined his long spurs. "If I had only laid my eggs on the other side of the hedge, among the corn," sighed the poor mother, "there would have been plenty of time to rear my birds before harvest-time.” "My dear," answered her mate, "don't be unhappy!" And, so saying, he hopped up to the eggs, and, laying one foot upon the prettiest, he clasped it with his long spurs. Strange to say, it exactly fitted them. 66 Oh, my clever mate!" cried the poor little mother; "do you think you can carry them away for me?" "To be sure I can," replied the lark, beginning slowly and carefully to hop with the egg in his right foot; "nothing could be more easy." So saying, he hopped gently on till he came to the hedge, and then got through it, still holding the egg, till he found a nice little hollow place in among the corn. There he laid it. "Hurrah!" cried the grasshopper. spurs for ever!" "Lark The fairy said nothing, but she felt ashamed of herself. She sat looking on till the happy lark had carried the last of his eggs to a safe place and had called his mate to come and sit on them. Then the lark sprang up into the sky again, singing to his mate. He was happy because he knew what his long spurs were for. From "Stories Told to a Child." Abridged. Hark! hark! the lark at Heaven's gate sings, His steeds to water at those springs And winking marybuds begin With everything that pretty is, William Shakespeare. SPRING BY CELIA THAXTER The alder by the river Shakes out her powdery curls; The willow buds in silver For little boys and girls. The little birds fly over, And O, how sweet they sing! To tell the happy children The gay green grass comes creeping So soft beneath their feet; The frogs begin to ripple A music clear and sweet. And buttercups are coming, |