were calling, "Southward Ho!" The red-winged blackbirds gave a wonderful
farewell chorus. Flock by flock and kind by kind, the migrating birds
departed.

_WHY?_

Well, never ask Chick, D.D. The north with its snows is good enough for
him. Warblers may go and nuthatches may come. 'Tis all one to Chick. He
is not a bird to follow fashions others set.

This bird-of-the-happy-heart has courage to meet the coldest day with a
joyous note of welcome. The winter is cheerier for his song. And, as you
have guessed, it is not by word alone that he renders service. The trees
of the north are the healthier for his presence. Because of him, the
purse of man is fatter, and his larder better stocked. He has done no
harm as harm is counted in the world he lives in. It is written in books
that, in all the years, not one crime, not even one bad habit, is known
of any bird who has called himself "Chick, D.D."

Because the world is always better for his living in it; and because no
one can watch the black-capped sprite without catching, for a moment at
least, a message of cheer and courage and service, does he not name
himself rightly a minister?

Yes, surely, the little parson who dwells in the heart of Christmas-tree
Land has a right to his "D.D.," even though he did not earn it in a
college of men.

II

THE FIVE WORLDS OF LARIE

Larie was all alone in a little world. He had lived there many days, and
had spent the time, minute by minute and hour by hour, doing nothing at
all but growing. That one thing he had done well. There is no doubt
about that; for he had grown from a one-celled little beginning of life
into a creature so big that he filled the whole of his world crammed
full. It was smooth, and it was hard, and its sides were curved around
and about him so tightly that he could not even stretch his legs. There
was no door. Larie was a prisoner. The prison-walls of his world held
him so fast that he could not budge. That is, he could not budge
anything but his head. He could move that a little.

Now, that is what we might call being in a fairly tight place. But you
don't know Larie if you think he could not get out of it. There are few
places so tight that we can't get out of them if we go about it the
right way, and make the best of what power we have. That is just what
Larie did. He had power to move his head enough to tap, with his beak,
against the wall of his world that had become his prison. So he kept
tapp