This is the reason why
the English, Scotch, and Irish families who come to live in Canada are
called emigrants."
"What colour are the Canadian robins, nurse?"
"The head is blackish; the back, lead colour; and the breast is pale
orange--not so bright a red, however, as the real robin."
"Have you ever seen their nests, nurse?"
"Yes, my dear, many of them. It is not a pretty nest. It is large, and
coarsely put together, of old dried grass, roots, and dead leaves,
plastered inside with clay, mixed with bits of straw, so as to form a sort
of mortar. You know, Lady Mary, that the blackbird and thrush build nests,
and plaster them in this way?"
The little lady nodded her head in assent.
"Nurse, I once saw a robin's nest when I was in England. It was in the
side of a mossy ditch, with primroses growing close beside it. It was made
of green moss, and lined with white wool and hair. It was a pretty nest,
with nice eggs in it; much better than your Canadian robin's nest."
[Illustration: WATCHING THE BIRDS]
"Our robins build in upturned roots, in the corners of rail fences, and in
the young pear-trees and apple-trees in the orchard. The eggs are a
greenish-blue. The robin sings a full, clear song; indeed, he is our best
songster.
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