wearied, and he is nothing but a speck of dust, and when your body
also is nothing but dust, these thoughts of yours, that have pursued
him, will be still travelling on; and, if you stretch the wings of
your mind, and soar upward, as the martin does with his bodily
wings, and like him, use all your powers as God directs you, you
will be rising higher and higher. And you will also know to whom you
go, and who gives you all your powers. The martin knows nothing of
this. He must go and come at such a time, and do just as all other
martins have done; but you are free to choose for yourself, and to
take the right and happy way, because you know it is the right way,
and the path to heaven.

But I must tell you what made me think particularly now of these
travellers through the pathless air. Last week, you remember, I was
ill, and shut up in my room. As I was sitting at my chamber window,
enjoying the perfume of the apple blossoms, and listening to the
song of the birds, and the soft sighing of the south wind, the world
looked as beautiful to me as if it had been that moment created.

You remember that there is an olive jar in the cherry tree close to
my window, which I had last autumn desired to have placed there, in
the hope that the birds would build in it this spring.

While I was looking I saw a bluebird alight on the tree. Presently
she came nearer and nearer to the jar, and looked earnestly at the
small round opening in it, as much as to say, 'That looks like a
nice place for a nest.' Then she came still nearer, and looked round
to see if any one noticed her. I kept very still. At last she grew
bolder, and flew upon the jar. Now she looked around again, as if
she was afraid of something. Then she turned her head sideways, and