<h3>WHAT THE SWALLOWS DID.</h3>
<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">A man</span> lay on a pile of new-made hay, in a great
barn, looking up at the swallows who darted
and twittered above him. He envied the cheerful
little creatures; for he wasn't a happy man, though
he had many friends, much money, and the beautiful
gift of writing songs that everybody loved to sing.
He had lost his wife and little child, and would not
be comforted; but lived alone, and went about with
such a gloomy face that no one liked to speak to
him. He took no notice of friends and neighbors;
neither used his money for himself nor others; found
no beauty in the world, no happiness anywhere; and
wrote such sad songs it made one's heart ache to
sing them.</p>
<p>As he lay alone on the sweet-smelling hay, with
the afternoon sunshine streaming in, and the busy
birds chirping overhead, he said sadly to himself:</p>
<p>"Happy swallows, I wish I were one of you; for
you have no pains nor sorrows, and your cares are
very light. All summer you live gayly together;
and, when winter comes, you fly away to the lovely
South, unseparated still."</p>
<p>"Neighbors, do you hear what that lazy creature<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</SPAN></span>
down there is saying?" cried a swallow, peeping
over the edge of her nest, and addressing several
others who sat on a beam near by.</p>
<p>"We hear, Mrs. Skim; and quite agree with you
that he knows very little about us and our affairs,"
answered one of the swallows with a shrill chirp,
like a scornful laugh. "We work harder than he
does any day. Did he build his own house, I should
like to know? Does he get his daily bread for himself?
How many of his neighbors does he help?
How much of the world does he see, and who is the
happier for his being alive?"</p>
<p>"Cares indeed!" cried another; "I wish he'd
undertake to feed and teach my brood. Much he
knows about the anxieties of a parent." And the
little mother bustled away to get supper for the
young ones, whose bills were always gaping wide.</p>
<p>"Sorrows we have, too," softly said the fourth
swallow. "He would not envy <i>me</i>, if he knew how
my nest fell, and all my children were killed; how
my dear husband was shot, and my old mother died
of fatigue on our spring journey from the South."</p>
<p>"Dear neighbor Dart, he <i>would</i> envy you, if he
knew how patiently you bear your troubles; how
tenderly you help us with our little ones; how cheerfully
you serve your friends; how faithfully you love
your lost mate; and how trustfully you wait to meet
him again in a lovelier country than the South."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</SPAN></span>
As Skim spoke, she leaned down from her nest to
kiss her neighbor; and, as the little beaks met, the
other birds gave a grateful and approving murmur,
for Neighbor Dart was much beloved by all the
inhabitants of Twittertown.</p>
<p>"I, for my part, don't envy <i>him</i>," said Gossip
Wing, who was fond of speaking her mind. "Men
and women call themselves superior beings; but,
upon my word, I think they are vastly inferior to us.
Now, look at that man, and see how he wastes his
life. There never was any one with a better chance
for doing good, and being happy; and yet he mopes
and dawdles his time away most shamefully."</p>
<p>"Ah! he has had a great sorrow, and it is hard to
be gay with a heavy heart, an empty home; so don't
be too severe, Sister Wing." And the white tie of
the little widow's cap was stirred by a long sigh as
Mrs. Dart glanced up at the nook where her nest
once stood.</p>
<p>"No, my dear, I won't; but really I do get out of
patience when I see so much real misery which that
man might help, if he'd only forget himself a little.
It's my opinion he'd be much happier than he now
is, wandering about with a dismal face and a sour
temper."</p>
<p>"I quite agree with you; and I dare say he'd
thank any one for telling him how he may find comfort.
Poor soul! I wish he could understand me;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</SPAN></span>
for I sympathize with him, and would gladly help
him if I could."</p>
<p>And, as she spoke, kind-hearted Widow Dart
skimmed by him with a friendly chirp, which did
comfort him; for, being a poet, he <i>could</i> understand
them, and lay listening, well pleased while the little
gossips chattered on together.</p>
<p>"I am so tied at home just now, that I know
nothing of what is going on, except the bits of news
Skim brings me; so I enjoy your chat immensely.
I'm interested in your views on this subject, and beg
you'll tell me what you'd have that man do to better
himself," said Mrs. Skim, settling herself on her eggs
with an attentive air.</p>
<p>"Well, my dear, I'll tell you; for I've seen a deal
of the world, and any one is welcome to my experience,"
replied Mrs. Wing, in an important manner;
for she was proud of her "views," and very fond of
talking. "In my daily flights about the place, I see
a great deal of poverty and trouble, and often wish
I could lend a hand. Now, this man has plenty of
money and time; and he might do more good than
I can tell, if he'd only set about it. Because he is
what they call a poet is no reason he should go
moaning up and down, as if he had nothing to do
but make songs. We sing, but we work also; and
are wise enough to see the necessity of both, thank
goodness!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</SPAN></span>
"Yes, indeed, we do," cried all the birds in a
chorus; for several more had stopped to hear what
was going on.</p>
<p>"Now, what I say is this," continued Mrs. Wing
impressively. "If I were that man, I'd make myself
useful at once. There is poor little Will getting
more and more lame every day, because his mother
can't send him where he can be cured. A trifle of
that man's money would do it, and he ought to give
it. Old Father Winter is half starved, alone there
in his miserable hovel; and no one thinks of the
good old man. Why don't that lazy creature take
him home, and care for him, the little while he has
to live? Pretty Nell is working day and night, to
support her father, and is too proud to ask help,
though her health and courage are going fast. The
man might make hers the gayest heart alive, by a
little help. There in a lonely garret lives a young
man studying his life away, longing for books and a
teacher. The man has a library full, and might keep
the poor boy from despair by a little help and a
friendly word. He mourns for his own lost baby: I
advise him to adopt the orphan whom nobody will
own, and who lies wailing all day untended on the
poor-house floor. Yes: if he wants to forget sorrow
and find peace, let him fill his empty heart and home
with such as these, and life won't seem dark to him
any more."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</SPAN></span>
"Dear me! how well you express yourself, Mrs.
Wing; it's quite a pleasure to hear you; and I
heartily wish some persons could hear you, it would
do 'em a deal of good," said Mrs. Skim; while her
husband gave an approving nod as he dived off the
beam, and vanished through the open doors.</p>
<p>"I know it would comfort that man to do these
things; for I have tried the same cure in my small
way, and found great satisfaction in it," began little
Madame Dart, in her soft voice; but Mrs. Wing
broke in, saying with a pious expression of countenance:</p>
<p>"I flew into church one day, and sat on the
organ enjoying the music; for every one was singing,
and I joined in, though I didn't know the air. Opposite
me were two great tablets with golden letters on
them. I can read a little, thanks to my friend, the
learned raven; and so I spelt out some of the words.
One was, 'Love thy neighbor;' and as I sat there,
looking down on the people, I wondered how they
could see those words week after week, and yet pay
so little heed to them. Goodness knows, <i>I</i> don't
consider myself a perfect bird; far from it; for I
know I am a poor, erring fowl; but I believe I may
say I <i>do</i> love my neighbor, though I <i>am</i> 'an inferior
creature.'" And Mrs. Wing bridled up, as if she
resented the phrase immensely.</p>
<p>"Indeed you do, gossip," cried Dart and Skim;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</SPAN></span>
for Wing was an excellent bird, in spite of the good
opinion she had of herself.</p>
<p>"Thank you: well, then, such being the known
fact, I may give advice on the subject as one having
authority; and, if it were possible, I'd give that man
a bit of my mind."</p>
<p>"You have, madam, you have; and I shall not
forget it. Thank you, neighbors, and good night,"
said the man, as he left the barn, with the first smile
on his face which it had worn for many days.</p>
<p>"Mercy on us! I do believe the creature heard
every thing we said," cried Mrs. Wing, nearly
tumbling off the beam, in her surprise.</p>
<p>"He certainly did; so I'm glad I was guarded in
my remarks," replied Mrs. Skim, laughing at her
neighbor's dismay.</p>
<p>"Dear me! dear me! what did I say?" cried
Mrs. Wing, in a great twitter.</p>
<p>"You spoke with more than your usual bluntness,
and some of your expressions were rather strong, I
must confess; but I don't think any harm will come
of it. We are of too little consequence for our criticisms
or opinions to annoy him," said Mrs. Dart
consolingly.</p>
<p>"I don't know that, ma'am," returned Mrs. Wing,
sharply: for she was much ruffled and out of temper.
"A cat may look at a king; and a bird may teach a
man, if the bird is the wisest. He may destroy my<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</SPAN></span>
nest, and take my life; but I feel that I have done
my duty, and shall meet affliction with a firmness
which will be an example to that indolent, ungrateful
man."</p>
<p>In spite of her boasted firmness, Mrs. Wing
dropped her voice, and peeped over the beam, to
be sure the man was gone before she called him
names; and then flew away, to discover what he
meant to do about it.</p>
<p>For several days, there was much excitement in
Twittertown; for news of what had happened flew
from nest to nest, and every bird was anxious to
know what revenge the man would take for the
impertinent remarks which had been made about
him.</p>
<p>Mrs. Wing was in a dreadful state of mind, expecting
an assault, and the destruction of her entire
family. Every one blamed her. Her husband
lectured; the young birds chirped, "Chatterbox,
chatterbox," as she passed; and her best friends
were a little cool. All this made her very meek for
a time; and she scarcely opened her bill, except to
eat.</p>
<p>A guard was set day and night, to see if any
danger approached; and a row of swallows might
be seen on the ridgepole at all hours. If any one
entered the barn, dozens of little black heads peeped
cautiously over the edges of the nests, and there was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</SPAN></span>
much flying to and fro with reports and rumors; for
all the birds in the town soon knew that something
had happened.</p>
<p>The day after the imprudent conversation, a chimney-swallow
came to call on Mrs. Wing; and, the
moment she was seated on the beam, she began:</p>
<p>"My dear creature, I feel for you in your trying
position,—indeed I do, and came over at once to
warn you of your danger."</p>
<p>"Mercy on us! what is coming?" cried Mrs.
Wing, covering her brood with trembling wings, and
looking quite wild with alarm.</p>
<p>"Be calm, my friend, and bear with firmness the
consequences of your folly," replied Mrs. Sooty-back,
who didn't like Mrs. Wing, because she prided
herself on her family, and rather looked down on
chimney-swallows. "You know, ma'am, I live at
the great house, and am in the way of seeing and
hearing all that goes on there. No fire is lighted in
the study now; but my landlord still sits on the
hearth, and I can overhear every word he says. Last
evening, after my darlings were asleep, and my husband
gone out, I went down and sat on the andiron,
as I often do; for the fireplace is full of oak boughs,
and I can peep out unseen. My landlord sat there,
looking a trifle more cheerful than usual, and I
heard him say, in a very decided tone:</p>
<p>"'I'll catch them, one and all, and keep them<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</SPAN></span>
here; that is better than pulling the place down, as
I planned at first. Those swallows little know what
they have done; but I'll show them I don't forget.'"</p>
<p>On hearing this a general wail arose, and Mrs.
Wing fainted entirely away. Madam Sooty-back
was quite satisfied with the effect she had produced,
and departed, saying loftily:</p>
<p>"I'm sorry for you, Mrs. Wing, and forgive your
rude speech about my being related to chimney-sweeps.
One can't expect good manners from
persons brought up in mud houses, and entirely
shut out from good society. If I hear any thing
more, I'll let you know."</p>
<p>Away she flew; and poor Mrs. Wing would have
had another fit, if they hadn't tickled her with a
feather, and fanned her so violently that she was
nearly blown off her nest by the breeze they raised.</p>
<p>"What shall we do?" she cried.</p>
<p>"Nothing, but wait. I dare say, Mrs. Sooty-back
is mistaken; at any rate, we can't get away without
leaving our children, for they can't fly yet. Let us
wait, and see what happens. If the worst comes,
we shall have done our duty, and will all die
together."</p>
<p>As no one could suggest any thing better, Mrs.
Dart's advice was taken, and they waited. On the
afternoon of the same day, Dr. Banks, a sand-swallow,
who lived in a subterranean village over by the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</SPAN></span>
great sand-bank, looked in to see Mrs. Wing, and
cheered her by the following bit of news:</p>
<p>"The man was down at the poor-house to-day, and
took away little Nan, the orphan baby. I saw him
carry her to Will's mother, and heard him ask her to
take care of it for a time. He paid her well, and
she seemed glad to do it; for Will needs help, and
now he can have it. An excellent arrangement, I
think. Bless me, ma'am! what's the matter? Your
pulse is altogether too fast, and you look feverish."</p>
<p>No wonder the doctor looked surprised; for Mrs.
Wing suddenly gave a skip, and flapped her wings,
with a shrill chirp, exclaiming, as she looked about
her triumphantly:</p>
<p>"Now, who was right? Who has done good, not
harm, by what you call 'gossip'? Who has been a
martyr, and patiently borne all kinds of blame,
injustice, and disrespect? Yes, indeed! the man
saw the sense of my words; he took my advice; he
will show his gratitude by some good turn yet; and,
if half a dozen poor souls are helped, it will be my
doing, and mine alone."</p>
<p>Here she had to stop for breath; and her neighbors
all looked at one another, feeling undecided
whether to own they were wrong, or to put Mrs.
Wing down. Every one twittered and chirped, and
made a great noise; but no one would give up, and
all went to roost in a great state of uncertainty. But,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</SPAN></span>
the next day, it became evident that Mrs. Wing was
right; for Major Bumble-bee came buzzing in to tell
them that old Daddy Winter's hut was empty, and
his white head had been seen in the sunny porch of
the great house.</p>
<p>After this the swallows gave in; and, as no harm
came to them, they had a jubilee in honor of the
occasion. Mrs. Wing was president, and received a
vote of thanks for the good she had done, and the
credit she had bestowed upon the town by her
wisdom and courage. She was much elated by all
this; but her fright had been of service, and she
bore her honors more meekly than one would have
supposed. To be sure, she cut Mrs. Sooty-back
when they met; assumed an injured air, when some
of her neighbors passed her; and said, "I told you
so," a dozen times a day to her husband, who got so
many curtain lectures that he took to sleeping on the
highest rafter, pretending that the children's noise
disturbed him.</p>
<p>All sorts of charming things happened after that,
and such a fine summer never was known before; for
not only did the birds rejoice, but people also. A
good spirit seemed to haunt the town, leaving help
and happiness wherever it passed. Some unseen
hand scattered crumbs over the barn floor, and left
food at many doors. No dog or boy or gun marred
the tranquillity of the birds, insects, and flowers who<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</SPAN></span>
lived on the great estate. No want, care, or suffering,
that love or money could prevent, befell the
poor folk whose cottages stood near the old house.
Sunshine and peace seemed to reign there; for its
gloomy master was a changed man now, and the
happiness he earned for himself, by giving it to
others, flowed out in beautiful, blithe songs, and went
singing away into the world, making him friends, and
bringing him honor in high places as well as low.</p>
<p>He did not forget the wife and little child whom
he had loved so well; but he mourned no longer, for
cheerful daisies grew above their graves, and he
knew that he should meet them in the lovely land
where death can never come. So, while he waited
for that happy time to come, he made his life a
cheery song,—as every one may do, if they will;
and went about dropping kind words and deeds as
silently and sweetly as the sky drops sunshine and
dew. Every one was his friend, but his favorites
were the swallows. Every day he went to see them,
carrying grain and crumbs, hearing their chat, sharing
their joys and sorrows, and never tiring of their
small friendship; for to them, he thought, he owed
all the content now his.</p>
<p>When autumn leaves were red, and autumn winds
blew cold, the inhabitants of Twittertown prepared
for their journey to the South. They lingered longer
than usual this year, feeling sorry to leave their<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</SPAN></span>
friend. But the fields were bare, the frosts began to
pinch, and the young ones longed to see the world;
so they must go. The day they started, the whole
flock flew to the great house, to say good-by. Some
dived and darted round and round it, some hopped
to and fro on the sere lawn, some perched on the
chimney-tops, and some clung to the window ledges;
all twittering a loving farewell.</p>
<p>Chirp, Dart, and Wing peeped everywhere, and
everywhere found something to rejoice over. In a
cosey room, by a bright fire, sat Daddy Winter and
Nell's old father, telling stories of their youth, and
basking in the comfortable warmth. In the study,
surrounded by the books he loved, was the poor
young man, happy as a king now, and learning many
things which no book could teach him; for he had
found a friend. Then, down below was Will's
mother, working like a bee; for she was housekeeper,
and enjoyed her tasks as much as any
mother-bird enjoys filling the little mouths of her
brood. Close by was pretty Nell, prettier than ever
now; for her heavy care was gone, and she sung as
she sewed, thinking of the old father, whom nothing
could trouble any more.</p>
<p>But the pleasantest sight the three gossips saw
was the man with Baby Nan on his arm and Will at
his side, playing in the once dreary nursery. How
they laughed and danced! for Will was up from his<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</SPAN></span>
bed at last, and hopped nimbly on his crutches,
knowing that soon even they would be unneeded.
Little Nan was as plump and rosy as a baby should
be, and babbled like a brook, as the man went to
and fro, cradling her in his strong arms, feeling as if
his own little daughter had come back when he
heard the baby voice call him father.</p>
<p>"Ah, how sweet it is!" cried Mrs. Dart, glad to
see that he had found comfort for his grief.</p>
<p>"Yes; indeed: it does one's heart good to see
such a happy family," added Mrs. Skim, who was a
very motherly bird.</p>
<p>"I don't wish to boast; but I <i>will</i> say that I am
satisfied with my summer's work, and go South feeling
that I leave an enviable reputation behind me."
And Mrs. Wing plumed herself with an air of immense
importance, as she nodded and bridled from
her perch on the window-sill.</p>
<p>The man saw the three, and hastened to feed
them for the last time, knowing that they were about
to go. Gratefully they ate, and chirped their thanks;
and then, as they flew away, the little gossips heard
their friend singing his good-by:</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Swallow, swallow, neighbor swallow,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Starting on your autumn flight,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Pause a moment at my window,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Twitter softly your good-night;<br/></span>
<span class="i0">For the summer days are over,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">All your duties are well done,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">And the happy homes you builded<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Have grown empty, one by one.<br/></span></div>
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</SPAN></span>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Swallow, swallow, neighbor swallow,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Are you ready for your flight?<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Are all the feather cloaks completed?<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Are the little caps all right?<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Are the young wings strong and steady<br/></span>
<span class="i2">For the journey through the sky?<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Come again in early spring-time;<br/></span>
<span class="i2">And till then, good-by, good-by!"<br/></span></div>
</div>
<hr />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2><SPAN name="VIII" id="VIII"></SPAN>VIII.</h2>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />