there before her, and whether they had ever found the hidden valley
among those yet distant mountains. At night she staid in some little
cottage by the wayside, always kindly welcomed, and carrying kind
wishes with her when she went away. At noon she would break her little
loaf, and dip it in the stream, remembering to leave a crumb in the
basket; and when she opened the basket for her supper, there would
still be the loaf, whole as ever; and many and many a bird did she
feed on her way.

One day when she had been walking a long distance, and was very
hungry, she had forgotten about keeping the crumb, and was just
breaking the last crust, when she heard the quick, sharp cry of a bird
in distress. Looking round she found a wounded sparrow lying on a
rock. She washed the blood from his feathers, and gave him a crumb of
the bread, very thankful that he had prevented her from eating it all,
for then there would have been none left either for the bird or for
herself. She wrapped the sparrow gently in her dress, and carried it
with her, and wherever she went, along the edge of steep precipices,
or over the rough glaciers, through deep snow or amid cold winds,
still she warmed that bird in her bosom and kept it alive. At length
she reached the summit of the mountain, and saw the red sunset slowly
become gray, and the stars come out one by one in the wide, lonely
sky. So far did it stretch around her, on every side, before it
touched the horizon; so near did it seem, above her, that she felt as
if she were high in the heavens, and turning her face towards her
village, she thought Alfred might perhaps see her there, shining among
the stars. Ah, foolish little girl! Her weary feet soon sank beneath
her, and she fell asleep upon the snow. But the bird fluttered and
chirped in her bosom, as if it knew danger were near, and she suddenly
awoke. "O, good little sparrow," she cried, "if it had not been for