A bright eyed boy was sleeping upon a bank of blossoming clover. The

cool breeze lifted the curls from his brow, and fanned with downy

wings his quiet slumbers, while he lay under the refreshing shade of a

large maple tree. The birds sang to him during his happy hours of

sleep. By and by he awoke, and a beautiful gold robin sat on the

spray, and sung a song of joy. The boy reached out his hands to secure

the prize, but
the robin spread his golden wings and soared away. He

looked after it with a longing gaze, and when it disappeared from his

sight, he wept aloud. At this moment, a form of light approached, and

took the hands of the child and pointed upwards; and he saw the bird

soaring in freedom, and the sun shining upon its burnished plumes.

Then the shining one said: "Do you love that beautiful bird?" In the

midst of his tears the child replied, "Oh, yes." "Then," said the

angel, "shall it not wing its flight from flower to flower and be

happy, rather than to dwell in a prison with thee?" Then the streams

and flowering vales of Elysium, that breathe the pure air of freedom,

spake: "Wouldst thou bring her back to thee, and make her a prisoner?

Dry up thy tears, and let thy song be, 'Stay not here, but speed thy

flight, O bright one, and snuff the mellow air of freedom.' God made

the birds to be happy in their short existence, and ought we to

deprive them of their own elements of happiness, and take from them

the freedom which they enjoy?"