heart, crushing it almost to breaking; yet bravely she struggled
with her woe. It was when the holy stars shone down, gazing pityingly
at her meekly raised eyes, and she was alone in stillness with her great
sorrow, that then would she murmur with a bitter cry,--

'When will he come home to me again?'

Yet still he came not!

Then her brave heart gave way. In vain the other birds tried to comfort
her; she could not be comforted, for he she so dearly loved 'was not.'

'Do not grieve, do not grieve--cheer thee, che-eer thee,' sang the
Robin, as he perched beside her.

Or the Thrush tried to advise, saying, 'Don't fret, don't fret; 'tis a
pity, 'tis a pity!'

But one bright sunny day a Swallow came flying along. He had just
returned from far distant lands, and all the other birds gathered
chittering around him, eager to hear the news he had brought. He told
them of much he had seen whilst on the wing; also that he was the
pioneer, his brothers would soon rejoin him, for Summer was coming; he
had heard her heralds in the fields and groves, had marked her
flower-decked path in forest and in lane. But what was summer to the
heart-broken Wren? There would be no sunshine for her, since _he_ was
not there--he who was her all.

'Oh, Swallow,' she timidly asked, 'have you seen my own love?'

Then the eyes of the Swallow became tear-dimmed, as sadly he replied,--

'Little Jenny Wren, I have!'

'Where--oh, where?' she cried in thrilling accents.

He hesitated a few moments, though to her impatience it seemed hours; he
wished to spare her further agony if he could--but the truth must be
told.

'Tell me, tell me,' she pleaded, impatient at the delay.

'In a prison,' was the reply.

'In a prison!' she repeated, horror-struck at the disclosure; then she
added, 'I will go to him, and share his captivity.'

'Nay, nay,' remonstrated a motherly Sparrow; 'your little
ones--think--think--see--see!'

Sadly she drooped her head upon her breast; her heart was divided
between a mother's duty and a wife's love.

'I will take care of the nestlings,' said a young Linnet; 'they shall
feed with my little ones, I will shelter them under my wings.'

Gratefully the poor wee bird looked at her generous friend; words were
not needed to express her thanks.

'Take me to him,' she piteously asked, turning to the Swallow.

'I shall pass that way to-morrow,' he said, 'for I must go and meet my
comrades, to guide them here. You can go w