would have soon become tiresome to you. It is a
happiness that we have it not in our power to regulate the course of
nature: the wise and unerring designs of Providence, in favour of
mankind, would then, most probably, be perverted to their own inevitable
ruin."

[Illustration]

LOUISA'S TENDERNESS TO THE

LITTLE BIRDS IN WINTER.

[Illustration]

However long the winter may appear, the spring will naturally succeed
it. A gentle breeze began to warm the air, the snow gradually vanished,
the fields put on their enamelled livery, the flowers shot forth their
buds, and the birds began to send forth their harmony from every bough.

Little Louisa and her father left the city, to partake of the pleasures
of the country.--Scarcely had the blackbird and the thrush begun their
early whistle to welcome Louisa, than the weather changed all on a
sudden; the north wind roared horribly in the grove, and the snow fell
in such abundance, that every thing appeared in a silver-white mantle.

Though the little maid went to bed shivering with cold, and much
disappointed in her expectations, yet she thanked God for having given
her so comfortable a shelter from the inclemency of the elements.

Such a quantity of snow had fallen during the night, that the roads were
almost impassable in the morning, which was a matter of great affliction
to poor Louisa; but she observed, that the birds were as dull as herself
upon the occasion. Every tree and hedge being so covered with snow, that
the poor birds could get nothing to eat; not so much as a grain of corn
or worm to be found.

The feathered inhabitants now forsook the woods and groves, and fled
into the neighbourhood of inhabited towns and villages, to seek that
relief from man, which nature alone would not then afford them.
Incredibly numerous were the flight of sparrows, robins, and other
birds, that were seen in the streets and courtyards, where their little
beaks and claws were employed in turning over whatever they thought
could afford them a single grain.

A large company of these feathered refugees alighted in the yard
belonging to the house in which little Louisa and her father then were.
The distress of the poor birds seemed to afflict the tender-hearted maid
very much, which her father perceived as soon as she entered his
chamber. "What is it makes you look so pensive now," said her father,
"since it is but a few minutes ago when you were so remarkably
cheerful?"--