THE BIRDS AND THE SNOW-STORM.


The weather is warm and sunny. The snow of winter has disappeared. The
grass is green, and growing finely. The early spring-flowers have
opened their blossoms, and we all think summer is so near, that the
cold weather must be over. The birds have thought so, too; for they
are flying from tree to tree, singing most beautiful melodies, and
peeping about, here and there, making arrangements for summer, and
selecting places where to build their pretty nests.

But the wind blows chill again. The sky is clouded, and people begin
to say, "I think we shall have another snow-storm." It is not long
before the feathery flakes begin to descend. The earth is so warm that
they scarce touch it before they are melted and absorbed. The snow
continues to fall, the earth grows colder and colder, and soon it
cannot melt the snow, but is itself chilled, and accepts it as a
mantle. For three days the storm rages. The ground is as white as in
mid-winter.

What is to become of the birds? They can find neither food nor
shelter. It is painful to see them flying distractedly through the
storm, not knowing where to go; but too cold and too hungry to remain
in the trees, and too fearful to seek comfort in the many warm houses,
that would have opened their windows, if they would have entered under
their protecting roof.

Mrs. Dudley's children are all watching them from the windows, and
throwing out hominy and bread-crumbs for them to eat. How cold the