“Yes, I love ze birds.  I love von bird up in dot tree.  You not see him vay high dare?  Ven I have eat my dinner in ze morning, I come down here, and ven I have eat my dinner in ze noon, I come down here; and all ze time, ven I come, he sing.  Sometimes some oder birds come in ze tree, and zey sing mit him; but all ze time he sing.  I vish I sing like ze birds.  I vish I have vings, and I go vay high in ze sky, vare ze stars be.  Gott make ze stars, and Georgy say dot zey shine vay down in ze vater, he see zem dare; and von time I tell him dot he vill get me von mit hees hook vot he catch ze fishes mit; but he laugh and say dot he cannot.  But I tink I see ze stars ven I come im Himmel mit”—­

“Im Himmel!  Where is that, Jakey?  Where is Himmel?”

“Vy! you not know dot?  Himmel bees vare Gott live.”

I caught him down from the gate in my arms, and nearly smothered him with kisses.

Then he put his bands up and felt my face over, so softly and tenderly, that I fancied his little creeping fingers reading there every thought in my heart; and finally, clasping his loving arms around my neck, he said, in a voice hardly above a whisper,—­

“I love you,—­you love me?”

“I do indeed love you, you dear lamb,” I said; but I could hardly speak, my voice was so choked with tears.  Perceiving this, he rested his little hand softly on my cheek again, and whispered timidly,—­

“Vy for you cry?”

But hearing some one approaching, and fearing to be disturbed, I took his little hand in mine and led him away, across the park, to a seat under the big mulberry, where I held him long and lovingly on my lap, as I did often afterwards, while coaxing from his sweet lips the following chapters of his strange little life.

II.

Little Jakey was indeed little Jakey.  I have often seen boys three years old both taller and heavier; but never one more perfect in form and feature.  His little feet and hands might have belonged to a fairy.  His black eyes were bright and full, with long lashes and arched brows.  His long curls were blacker than the raven, and while holding him there in my arms, I could think of nothing but a beautiful cherub with folded wings, astray from heaven.  After smoothing down his curls awhile, and kissing him many times, I said to him,—­

“Dear Jakey, pray where did you come from, and who brought you here?”

Then dropping both his little hands in mine, he said,—­

“I come fon Germany.  My moder, ce bring me.  I come mit her, and mit ze baby.  Ven I come in ze America, ze flowers bees in ze garden, and ze birds bees in ze trees, and ze opples bees on ze trees, and ze pot-a-toes bees in ze ground.  Zen ze vinds blow and ze birds go avay, and ze opples bees in ze cellar, and ze pot-a-toes bees in ze cellar.  Zen ze vinds blow too hard and ze snow bees on ze ground, and it bees cold vinter.  Zen long time ze snow go avay, and ze leaves come on ze trees, and ze birds come back again, and it bees varm; so long I bees in ze America.”