bird music, but the sturdy farmers and great men shook their heads as
they heard it. And then they told how the birds were eating the grains
and spoiling the fruit, and every one said the birds must go. There
seemed to be not a single friend to the singers outside, until one man
arose--the teacher in the town, much loved by the children, and himself
loving everything that God had made. He looked sadly on the men around
him, and then he said:

"My friends, can you drive away these birds that God has made and sent
to us, for a few handfuls of grain and a little fruit? Will you lose all
this music that you hear outside? Think of the woods and orchard without
the birds, and of the empty nests you will see. You say the birds are
robbing you; but instead they are your greatest helpers. With their
bright little eyes they see the little bugs and worms which destroy the
fruit. Think who has made them. Who has taught them the songs and the
secret of building their nests. You will be sorry when they are gone and
will wish them back."

But still the farmers shook their heads and said: "The birds must go."
So the birds of Killingworth were driven away, until not a single note
was heard, and only empty nests were left. The little children of the
town were hoping each day to see their friends again, and a strange
stillness and loneliness seemed to fill the little town, for the music
in the air had ceased.

The summer came, and never before had it been so hot. The little insects
and worms which the little birds had always driven away covered every
tree and bush, eating the leaves until nothing was left but the bare
twigs. The streets were hot and shadeless. In the orchard the fruit
dropped, scorched and dried by the sun. When the grains were gathered