For it is said that once upon a time, when Mary was a little girl, as she was going along the gusty road a bit of straw blew into her eye and pained her terribly.  She sat down upon a stone and began to cry.  Now a Robin was sitting on a branch close by, singing with all the power of his little throat when the maiden passed, for she was very sweet to see and the Robin loved her looks.  But when he saw the blessed Mary begin to cry and rub her eye with her chubby hand, he stopped his gay song and became very sad, wondering what he could do to help her.

What he did was to fly away and tell his friend the Swallow all about it, asking her aid.  After that he fluttered to a little fountain which bubbled up close by and brought thence in his bill a drop of water.  Then, perching on Mary’s forehead, he gently dropped this into the suffering eye.  At the same time the Swallow softly brushed her long tail-feathers under the maiden’s eyelid, and the hateful straw was wiped away.  Thus the little Mary was relieved, and when once more she could look up happily with her pretty eyes she smiled upon the two kind birds and blessed them for their aid.

Of course, if the little Christ heard His mother tell this pretty story He would have been sure to love the Robin, just as she did.  And so these little birds became His boyhood friends.

Those were happy times.  But in the after years, in the dreadful day when the Saviour was so cruelly done to death by His enemies, the little Robin once more proved his generous and pious heart, so the legends say.

The Saviour hung upon the cross, suffering and sad, while the world was veiled with darkness and all good creatures mourned.  Two birds perched upon the cross beside His weary, drooping head.  One was the faithful Robin, who was then a plain and dark-colored bird with the scorched feathers of a fire-bringer upon his breast.  The other was the Magpie, who at that time was among the most gorgeous and beautiful of all the birds.  She had a tuft of bright feathers on her head, and her plumage outshone even that of the Peacock, who has the hundred gleaming eyes of Argus set in his fan-like tail.  But the Magpie, in spite of her beauty, was at heart a wicked bird.  Think of it!  She mocked the dying Saviour in His agony and seemed to rejoice in His suffering!

But the Robin fluttered about the holy figure, timidly uttering chirps of sorrow and longing to help the Master who had fed him tenderly for so many years.  With his soft wings he wiped away the tears which flowed from the Lord’s eyes, while with his beak he tugged at the cruel thorns which pierced His brow, trying to relieve Him.

Suddenly a drop of blood fell from Christ’s forehead upon the Robin’s breast and tinged with bright crimson the rusty reddish feathers.