If God so cares for the birds, whose lives are short, and who have no souls to live in another world, will he not much more care for those who are made in his image, and for whom the Saviour died?

No good thing will he withhold from those who walk uprightly, who try to obey his commandments, and look to Christ for salvation from sin.  I hope, my dear children, when you see the birds, you will remember God’s love to them and to you.

I have given you all I know of the history of one day of the robin’s life, but Eddie will observe it while it lives in its house in the honeysuckle, and will tell me all he sees of its domestic arrangements.  I hope to tell you with what kind of a carpet it covers the floor, and what it hangs on the walls, and how it brings up its little children, if it should be so happy as to have any to gladden its quiet home, and cheer it with their chattering tongues.  I am sure it will have pretty flowers and green leaves for pictures to look at, painted by One whose skill no artist can rival; and it will need no Cologne for perfume for the breath of the honeysuckle is more delicious than any odour which the art of man could prepare.

CHAPTER II.

Going to housekeeping.

I promised to tell you more about the nest in the honeysuckles.  Eddie has observed it with great attention, and has kept me well informed in regard to it.  I have stepped out upon the porch with him, and, kneeling down, and looking over the side, I have had a peep myself at this wonderfully contrived home of the robins.  It is partly supported by a cornice, which runs around the porch, and gives it a firmer foundation than the small branches of the honeysuckle could do.

But I must not forget to tell you about the finishing of the nest.  The second day, the robin was at work before six o’clock in the morning; so you see birds are early risers, and like to have their work done in good season.  They know how pleasant it is to see the rosy dawn, and welcome it with their sweetest strains of music.  I wonder how many of my little friends see the sun rise, these bright mornings!  If they would awake with the birds, they must, as wisely as the birds, go to their places of rest before the shades of evening shroud the world in darkness.  If they sit up late, they will lose the morning songs, which fill the woods with sounds of gladness, and which resound from every tree and shrub about the houses of those who love these pleasant visitors, and refuse to allow them to be frightened from their premises.