The little fellow hops about, in
his bright red waistcoat, from tree to tree. He flutters to the fence, and
from the fence to the garden path, and so to the door and into the kitchen.
If you will give him decent encouragement he will come on to your hand and
take his meal with absolute confidence in your good faith. Then he will
trip away and resume his song on the fence.
There are some people who say hard things about the robin--that he is
selfish and "gey ill to live wi'" and so on--but to me he seems the most
cheerful and constant companion in nature. He is a bringer of good
tidings--a philosopher who insists that we are masters of our fate and that
winter is just the time when there is some sense in being an optimist.
Anybody, he seems to say, can be an optimist when the days are long and the
air is warm and worms are plentiful; but it is just when things are looking
a little black and the other fellows begin to grouse that I put on my
brightest waistcoat, tune up my best whistle, and come and tell you that
the unconquerable soul is greater than circumstance.
Pages:
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119