* * * * *

Dear Children: I have not written to you for a long time, and you will
be glad to know the reason why I have not. I was drawing one day with
my pretty opal pen, when I heard a fluttering sound above my head, and
there was a rosy bird flying about and singing. O, I knew that song so
well! I often heard it at home when I was lying half asleep and half
awake in the morning, and when I was quite awake I had often looked
through all the garden, in every vine and tree, but had never found
the bird; and now it had come to sing to me again. It alighted on the
table. I did not touch it, but sat with my hands folded, looking and
listening; and I listened even after it had flown away, and all was
silent again. It flew away through the pearl window in the ceiling,
which was open, and has remained so ever since; and now I can look up
into the blue sky and see clouds drifting by, and the sun shining
in. It shines directly upon me and makes me so happy.

After the rosy bird had gone, I missed my drawing of the lady with the
sword, and I think he must have carried it away. Perhaps he will fly
with it to mother, and she will wonder what it is. She will not know
that I drew it, for I never drew before. If she should know it was my
drawing, she would send me a little note by the rosy bird.

* * * * *

Evening. Yes, the bird came again to-day, and brought me a blue
forget-me-not. I know it very well; it came from Mary's garden. You
would have thought some great misfortune had befallen me, if you had
seen how I wept over that little flower; but it was only because it