Zip was very fond of music. When the piano was played, he would stalk into the house, if the door stood open. If the door was closed, he would tap on the window till he was let in. Then he would dance up to the piano, and strike upon the keys with his beak. If the tune was a lively one, he seemed to enjoy it all 'the more; he would tap faster and faster; his bill would come down, pounce, between the fingers of the player, but it never hit them.
It as good as "man's-buff" to But Zip grew lie got up at day-the garden. Some-night, when the clock struck. His voice was loud, but it was not sweet. He was not Jenny Lind; he was only Zip. The neighbors did not enjoy his songs. They said he waked up the babies. So poor Zip was sent to the country. There he was very sad, and sang a great deal. But there was only one baby to hear him, and that baby was deaf.
|When Charlie woke up one morning and looked from the window, he saw that the ground was deeply covered with snow. The wind had blown it in great drifts against the fence and the trees.
Charlie's little sister Rosey said it looked like hills and valleys. On the side of the house nearest the kitchen the snow was piled higher than Charlie's head. Mamma said she did not know how black Aunt Patsey could get through it to bring in the breakfast.
"There must be a path cleared through this snow," said papa. "I would do it myself, if I had time. But I must be at my office early this morning." Then he looked at Charlie. "Do you think you could do it, my son?"
"I, papa! Why, it is higher than my head! How could a little boy like me cut a path through that deep snow?"
"How? Why, by doing it _little by little_. Suppose you try; and if I find a nice path cleared when I come home to dinner, you shall have the sled you wished for."
So Charlie got his wooden snow-shovel and set to work. He threw up first one shovelful, and then another; but it was slow work.
"I don't think I can do it' mamma," he said. "A shovelful is so little, and there is such a heap of snow to be cleared away!"
"Little by little, Charlie," said his mamma. "That snow fell in tiny bits, flake by flake, but you see what a great pile it has made."
"Yes, mamma; and if I throw it away shovelful by shovelful, it will all be gone at last. So I will keep on trying."