Bid it a moment linger,
Nor fly
Too soon from Winter's scowling eye.

"The Blackbird's song at eventide,
And hers, who gay ascends,
Filling the heavens far and wide,
Are sweet. But none so blends,
As thine
With calm decay, and peace divine."

Each day now the sun rose later and went to bed earlier. Willie and
Alice still ran about the garden, stamping their little feet among the
dry, crisp leaves, and picking up the beech-nuts which strewed the
ground.

However, as time went on, they came less out of doors, for cold and wet
days followed each other, when all that the Blackbird saw of his little
friends were the two small faces pressed against the dining-room
window-pane, looking wistfully out as the clouds drove past, and the
rain pattered against the glass.

At last a night arrived when it was very cold indeed. Through the bare
boughs, and on to the hedgerows and ivy, stole down the pure, soft snow.
The Blackbird put his head out of the ivy-bush to see what sort of night
it might be, and lo! under the pale light of the moon, all the landscape
lay white and dazzling before him.

One little flake dropt upon his head--one cold, soft flake; but as he
drew back into the shelter of the ivy, to return once more to rest, it
was with very different thoughts and feelings than those gloomy ones
which had troubled him the year before. He now knew what the beautiful
snow meant. It was the beginning of a hard winter, it was the herald of
cold, dark days. But he had also been taught a lesson of faith; he knew
of the winter berries which would be provided for him by One who
remembered even the despised Sparrows; he knew of a certain bay window
where two eager little faces would be watching for him, through all the
cold, dark days; and as he closed his eyes, on this the first night of
winter, he remembered that little Willie and Alice, and he himself, and
all created things, were under the protection of Him Who "casteth forth
His ice like morsels," but Who, in His own good time, would again bring
about the "time of the singing of birds," when, once more, as of old,
"the voice of the turtle" would be "heard in the land."

THE END.

LONDON:
R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR,
BREAD STREET HILL, E.C.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes

Typographical problems have been changed and are listed below.

Hyphenation standardized and