The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1880-03-05
BIRDS IN THE SNOW.
[0uida In Belgravia. ]


one Of the storybooks of his god-mother's
Of northern country where a sheaf of
wheat is tied up above the doorway for
the frozen birds in winter time; he
wished they were in that country. He
and Rob cried themselves to sleep that
night, for their little bones were all
aching, and both their hearts, too.
In the morning, when they got up,
they ran to the window. 1t was scarcely
light; big white moon was just vanish
ing over the brown edge of the moor;
snow had fallen all night, the duck-pond
was frozen over, the cold was great; on
the sill of their easement there lay Il lit
tie dead bird.
1t was young goldfinch.
Ray choked all over when he saw it;
Rob's cheeks grew red with rage.
''Oh, the poor, poor, poor little dearW
they SO bed rogether, and life seemed so
dreadful to them both that they clung
crying to one another. This hard, cold,
white world in which God let the dickey
birds die-it frightened them as they had
been frightened when they heard the
sods beaten down above the grave where
their mothers body was.
Ray looked up suddenly with a great
light in his eyes.
~ will give the birds my breakfast,
and papa may kill me-"
"Me. too," said Rob, who would not
be behind in any act or word, though his
heart gave terrible thr0b, for he was
very hungry this chilly morning.
'It will hurt to go without anything"
he. whispered. "Won't it hurt, Rayw
"Of course it will hurt" said Ray,
with scorn in his steadfast, shining eyes.
at hurt all the martyrs, butthey did
It,"
Rob shut his little, firm, rosy mouth,
and resolved to demur no more.
Ray was always telling him about the
martyrs, but Rob did not care much for
them; he cared more for the bunnies in
the traps.
"Let us go," said Ray, and together,
hand in hand, they trotted down the old
dark, steep, oak stairs.
The children always had their first
meal in the kitchen, for the convenience
Of Keziah, and the quietude of their
father. They all sat round the deal ta-
BILE before the fire, the little ones on their
high chair, Rob and Ray on wooden
stools.
For breakfast they had porridge some
times; this morning they had milk-and-
water in their mugs, and bread, and
Kezah for treat added honey, "because
it is so nigh Yule," as she said, for it wa,
the twenty-third of December.
Ray looked at the honey and bread.
as it my own, thisT
eyes, DEAR" said Keziah, wondering.
II may eat 1T or not eat it as / likeT'
"For sure, my dear. What big eyes
you make, my Radie, for naught."
Ray looked at his bread with swell
ing heart. He had all the hunger of a
seven-year-old country boy; but he saw
in his fancy all the birds of the world
lying dying. He rose up and took his
bread in his hands, and, with a glance
at his brother, went to the kitchen door.
Rob, with tears rolling dOwnseach cheek,
bravely grasped his bread and followed.
Their nurse did not notice them; her
back was turned, as she fed the little
twin girls.
"Papa NAV kill us, but God won't be
angry" said Ray, calmly, and never one
of the martyrs he loved had felt more
solemn and more sure. Then he began
to crumble his bread and throw it out
on the snow.
Rob took one big bite that he could
/, not help, then valorously flung his away
in large morsels.
From lattice above them, the voice
of their father thundered:
"I will have no such waste in my
household. Disobedient and wicked
childrenl Is my word not lawp
"He may kill me, l do not mind" said
Ray, with pale, firm face.
Rob frowned and looked surly.
'It isn't waste. 1t 'ud have been in
our tummies, and now it is in the dick
birds"
Meanwhile the feathered multitude of
the old hawthorn-tree and all the hedges
round were focking joyously round to
share the aims.
Their fathers step came down the
stairs in haste and called Keziah.
"Job Stevens has cut his hand off chop
ping furze; he is at the point Of death;
they have come for me this moment;
take these children and lock them in the
study; they will have their chastisement
when return"
"Yes, your reverence" said Keziah, in
amazement. "But, Sir-Job Stevens is
sixteen miles if one, and in the snow"
II must walk. of course" said her
master, hastily; mo horse could get
along. That is nothing. Lock these
boys in, and do not let them out until l
come back"
Then the Vicar threw his cloak about
MIN and went out toward the moor in
>the teeth Of the savage north wind. Rob
and Ray stood motionless
The nurse came out to them.
"My darlings, you heard the orders
that the master gave" said she, with the
water in her honest eyes.
Rob threw his fat arms about her.
eyes, but he's gone, Nursie; you won't
lnck ia inT