grassy plain with scarcely a tree on it, stretching away into the
blue distance. On this vast plain he gazed with wonderment and
delight. Behind the orchard and weedy waste the ground sloped down
to a stream of running water, full of tall rushes with dark green
polished stems, and yellow water-lilies. All along the moist banks
grew other flowers that were never seen in the dry ground above--the
blue star, and scarlet and white verbenas; and sweet-peas of all
colours; and the delicate red vinegar flower, and angel's hair, and
the small fragrant lilies called Mary's-tears, and tall scattered
flags, flaunting their yellow blossoms high above the meadow grass.

Every day Martin ran down to the stream to gather flowers and shells;
for many curious water-snails were found there with brown
purple-striped shells; and he also liked to watch the small birds
that build their nests in the rushes.

There were three of these small birds that did not appear to know
that Martin loved them; for no sooner would he present himself at
the stream than forth they would flutter in a great state of mind.
One, the prettiest, was a tiny, green-backed little creature, with a
crimson crest and a velvet-black band across a bright yellow breast:
this one had a soft, low, complaining voice, clear as a silver bell.
The second was a brisk little grey and black fellow, with a loud,
indignant chuck, and a broad tail which he incessantly opened and
shut, like a Spanish lady playing with her fan.

The third was a shy, mysterious little brown bird, peering out of
the clustering leaves, and making a sound like the soft ticking of a
clock. They were like three little men, an Italian, a Dutchman, and
a Hindoo, talking together, each in his own language, and yet well