s with the blossoms,
Bright thing, _you_ may spend;
They will close with the summer,
_Mine_ never shall end.

JULIA AND HER BIRDS.

Little Julia Cornish, a young friend of mine, is very fond of birds. It is
no strange thing, I am aware, for children to love birds. Indeed, I do not
see how any body can help loving the dear little things, especially those
that fill the air with their music. But Julia was unusually fond of them,
and her fondness showed itself in a great many ways. She did not shut them
up in cages. But she was so kind to those that had their liberty, that many
of them became quite as tame as if they had always lived in a cage.

I must tell you about a robin that used to be a pet of hers. You know the
robin, do you not, reader? To my mind he is one of the dearest of all our
native songsters. His notes are among the first we hear in the spring. And
he is a very social and confiding creature. How often he selects a place
for his nest on some tree near the house! and when it is built, while his
partner is busy with her domestic duties, he will sing for hours together
his song of love and tenderness.

Julia resided in the country; and every year the robins built their nests
on the trees in her father's orchard, near the house. She fancied that the
robins came from the South to her door, year after year, and brought their
children with them. She was sure she could distinguish the voices of her
old friends, and she used to sit under the shade of the trees where they
had their nests, and talk to them kindly, and leave something good for them
to eat.

One year there were a pair of robins who made their nest on a tree, the
boughs of which hung over the house; and Julia could sit in her window and
see all that the little family were doing. She was delighted with such a
token of confidence, and she and the robins soon became very intimate. The
old ones frequently flew down from their nest, and alighted near the door,
when Julia would give them as much food as they wanted, and let them carry
some home to their children.

By and by, the young robins were old enough to leave their nests. That was
a great day with both parents and children, and all seemed about as merry
as they could be when the half-fledged little birds took their first
lessons in flying, though Julia laughed a good deal to see their
manoeuvres, and said their motions were awkward enough. However, they