Part 12 (2/2)

This is not always so, however. I know some little boys and girls, who, when their parents, relatives, or friends give them cakes, candies, or playthings, immediately look from what they have themselves to what the others have received, and, if one thinks his share smaller or inferior, becomes dissatisfied, and, from a jealous and envious spirit, sacrifices his own pleasure and that of all the rest. Because there is a square inch more of cake in his brother's piece, that which he has doesn't taste good.

If he have one sugar-plum less than the others, they become tasteless, and he throws them all, perhaps, upon the floor.

How bad all this looks, and how very bad it really is! The friends of such children are never encouraged to make them presents. They rather avoid doing so; for they know that their greedy, envious, covetous spirit, will turn the good things they would offer them into causes of strife and unhappiness.

THE BOY AND THE ROBIN.

I.

So now, pretty robin, you've come to my door; I wonder you never have ventured before: 'Tis likely you thought I would do you some harm; But pray, sir, what cause have you seen for alarm?

II.

You seem to be timid--I'd like to know why-- Did I ever hurt you? What makes you so shy?

You shrewd little rogue, I've a mind, ere you go, To tell you a thing it concerns you to know.

III

You think I have never discovered your nest; 'Tis hid pretty snugly, it must be confessed.

Ha! ha! how the boughs are entwined all around!

No wonder you thought it would never be found.

IV.

You're as cunning a robin as ever I knew; And yet, ha! ha! ha! I'm as cunning as you!

I know all about your nice home on the tree--'Twas nonsense to try to conceal it from me.

V.

I know--for but yesterday I was your guest-- How many young robins there are in your nest; And pardon me, sir, if I venture to say, They've had not a morsel of dinner to-day.

VI.

But you look very sad, pretty robin, I see, As you glance o'er the meadow, to yonder green tree; I fear I have thoughtlessly given you pain, And I will not prattle so lightly again.

VII.

Go home, where your mate and your little ones dwell; Though I know where they are, yet I never will tell; n.o.body shall injure that leaf-covered nest, For sacred to me is the place of your rest.

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