The martin has very strong and large wings, and short legs, that
they may not interfere with his flight, which is very rapid. It is
calculated by Mr. Wilson that this bird flies as fast as a mile in a
minute. Sometimes you may see a martin flying in the midst of a
crowded street, so near people that it seems as if they might catch
him; and then, quick as thought, he darts out of their reach, and,
in less than a minute, you may see him far up among the clouds,
looking like a little black speck upon their silver edges."
"How happy, Mother," said Frank, "the martins must be, to be able to
fly about among the clouds, and travel so far, and go just where
they please so easily!"
"God has made every living thing to be happy," said his mother; "and
in this we see His goodness. Are not you happy, too?"
"Almost always, Mother. Sometimes I am not happy."
"What is the reason why you are not always happy?"
"Why, things trouble me, and I feel cross and impatient."
"But if you try to bear with disagreeable things, and conquer your
ill-humor, and make yourself patient, are you unhappy then?"
"No, Mother; but then I have to try very hard."
"But you are happy when you succeed. Now, what is it in you that
tries to be good, and is happy when it succeeds?"
"It is my mind, Mother."
"Would you, Frank, give up your mind for a pair of martin's wings?"
"O, no, Mother; but I want my mind, and a pair of wings too.
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