Once more we are back in the month when the robin sings so much. The robins, I find, are the tamest of all the birds in a garden; and as we fork over the beds, or dig new ones, they follow us all about, enjoying much the newly turned-up earth. Almost the prettiest lines in the ! Christian Year 'are about the Robin Redbreast, and were written by a friend of Keble's. I wonder if the 'Christian Year'is read now, and is as well known as it used to be ? I will risk it, and recall the two favourite little verses: