favor, or any of your friends, we will."

The old gentleman rabbit said he was glad to hear that, and then, taking
up his crutch and valise again, on he went.

Pretty soon he came to a place in the woods where the sun was shining
down through the trees, and a little brook was making pretty music over
the stones. And then, all at once, the old gentleman rabbit heard a
different kind of music, and it was that of a little bird singing. And
this is the song.

Now I did not make up this song. It is much prettier than I could write,
even if I had my Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes on, and I don't know who did
write it. But it used to be in my school reader when I was a little boy,
and I liked it very much. I hope whoever did write it won't mind if you
sing it. This is it:

"There's a little brown bird sitting up in a tree,
He's singing to you--he's singing to me.
And what does he say, little girl--little boy?
Oh, the world's running over with joy!"

Then the bird sang about how there were five eggs laid away up in a nest,
and how, pretty soon, little birds would come out from them, and then, all
of a sudden, the bird sang like this:

"But don't meddle,--don't touch,
Little girl--little boy,
Or the world will lose some of its joy!"