"There was plenty of snow and ice about, but nothing for the birds
to drink; so my sister used to put a saucer of water on the
window-ledge each morning. The birds would come from a long way
off to get a sip from it, and they were always glad to pick up a
few crumbs she strewed for them."

"Mine is a bird story too," said an observant-looking boy; "but
the kindness was done by birds, instead of by people. Last week
when a bill-poster was pasting up some advertisements on our barn,
a sparrow perched on the edge of the bucket, and got his feet and
the tips of his wing-feathers all covered with paste."

"I meant to catch him and try to tame him, but the bill-poster
said to wait and see what happened next; and sure enough, two
other sparrows came and flew in circles above his head, and
chirped to him as if they were talking over what could be done. At
last he managed to loosen his claws from the paste, and to move
his wings ever so little. The birds, one on each side of him,
helped him to the trough by the side of the road, and he splashed
in the water until the paste was quite washed off."

"And what did this very curious sight make you think of?" said Mr.
Sinclair, suddenly leaning over his desk, and looking at the lad.

The boy colored deeply as he said, "It made me think of my string
of birds' eggs at home, and my collection of birds' nests. I
promised myself then that I would never, never do anything to
injure birds again. I thought that if they knew enough to be kind
to each other I ought to know enough to be kind to them."