ty! The air was so fresh, yet so soft; the
moon shone so clearly; the trees and the flowers scented so sweetly;
and it was so comfortable where she sat--her feather garb so clean and
nice! How all creation told of love and glory! The grateful thoughts
that awoke in the bird's breast she would willingly have poured forth
in song, but the power was denied to her. Yes, gladly would she have
sung as do the cuckoo and the nightingale in spring. Our gracious
Lord, who hears the mute worm's hymn of praise, understood the
thanksgiving that lifted itself up in the tones of thought, as the
psalm floated in David's mind before it resolved itself into words and
melody.

As weeks passed on these unexpressed feelings of gratitude increased.
They would surely find a voice some day, with the first stroke of the
wing, to perform some good act. Might not this happen?

Now came the holy Christmas festival. The peasants raised a pole close
by the old wall, and bound an unthrashed bundle of oats on it, that
the birds of the air might also enjoy the Christmas, and have plenty
to eat at that time which was held in commemoration of the redemption
brought to mankind.

And the sun rose brightly that Christmas morning, and shone upon the
oat-sheaf, and upon all the chirping birds that flew around the pole;
and from the wall issued a faint twittering. The swelling thoughts had
at last found vent, and the low sound was a hymn of joy, as the bird
flew forth from its hiding-place.

The winter was an unusually severe one. The waters were frozen thickly
over; the birds and the wild animals in the woods had great difficulty
in obtaining food. The little bird, that had so recently left its dark
solitude, flew about the country roads, and when it found by chance a
little corn dropped in the ruts, it would eat only a single grain
itself, while it called all the starving sparrows to partake of it. It
would also fly to the villages and towns, and look well about; and
where kind hands had strewed crumbs of bread outside the windows for
the birds, it would eat only one morsel itself, and give all the rest
to the others.

At the end of the winter the bird had found and given away so many
crumbs of bread, that the number put together would have weighed as
much as the loaf upon which little Inger had trodden in order to save
her fine shoes from being soiled; and when she had found and given
away the very last crumb, the grey wings of the bird became white,