The swallow was in a bad temper. He sat on the roof close by the starlings' box and his bill.  
"There is not a fly left to chase," he piteously. "They are all gone, and I am so hungry—so hungry!"
 
"This morning I could not get a single worm," said the starling, and shook his head wisely.
 
 
The came along, and stood on one leg in the ploughed field just outside the garden, and looked most .
 
"I suppose none of you have seen a frog?" he asked. "There isn't one down in the , and I have not had any breakfast to-day."
 
Then the thrush flew up and perched on the roof of the starlings' box.
 
"How you all are," he said. "What is the matter with you?"
 
"Ah," answered the starling, "there's nothing else the matter, only the leaves are beginning to fall off the trees, and the butterflies and flies and worms are all eaten up."
 
 
"Yes, that is bad for you," said the thrush.
 
"Well, isn't it just as bad for you, you creature?" said the swallow.
 
But the thrush piped and shook his head.
 
"Not quite," he said. "I have always the fir trees, which don't lose their leaves; and I can live very many weeks yet on all the delicious berries in the wood."
 
"Let us stop squabbling," said the stork. "We had better consider together what we are to do."
 
"We can soon agree about that," answered the starling, "for we have no choice. We must travel. All my little ones can fly quite well now; we have been drilling every morning down in the meadow. I have already warned them that we shall be starting off one of these days."
 
 
The other birds thought this very sensible—all except the thrush, who thought there was no hurry. So they agreed to collect next day down in the meadow, and hold a grand review of the party that was to travel.
 
They flew off, each to his own quarters; but up under the roof sat the sparrow, who had heard all they had been saying.
 
"Ah, if only I could travel with them!" he said to himself. "I should so like to see foreign lands. My neighbour the swallow has told me how it is. Such a lot of flies and cherries and corn, and it's so warm. But no one asks me to fly with him. I am only a poor sparrow, and the others are birds of wealth and position."
 
He sat thinking it all over for a long time, and the more he thought the sadder he became. When the swallow came home in the evening, the sparrow asked if he could not get him leave to travel with them.
 
 
"You? You want to go with us?" asked the swallow, laughing at him scornfully. "You would soon be sick of it. It means flying, flying over land and sea, over hill and dale. Many and many a mile we fly in one journey without a rest. How do you imagine your short wings are going to support you so long as that?"
 
"Oh, but I should so like to go with you," the sparrow pleaded. "Couldn't you get leave for me to fly with the rest? I have such a for it. I must go with you."
 
"I believe you are mad," said the swallow. "You forget who you are."
 
"Oh no," said the sparrow.
 
But the swallow took it upon him to instruct him about his position in society.
 
"Don't you see," he said, "the rich merchant who lived here in the country during the summer has now moved into town, and the who lives on Tower Island has done the same? The painter who was staying out here is also by this time in Copenhagen; and they won't come out here again till next spring. We birds of high station act in the same way. As soon as ever we smell winter, we make our way to lands where life is more enjoyable—to the warm south. But you poor must of course stay at home and suffer. That is how things are arranged in this world. It is just the same with day labourers, and cottagers, and other poor folks."
 
 
The sparrow said nothing to this long speech; but when the swallow dropped asleep in his nest, he lay awake and wept over his hard fate. He had still not quite given up hope of going with them all the same.
 
 
Next day the birds came flying from all directions, and settled down in the meadow. There were starlings and and swallows, besides many little singing-birds. But neither the cuckoo nor the nightingale was there, for they had left long ago. "Fall in!" commanded an old stork. He had been ten times in Egypt, and was therefore reckoned the wisest of them all.
 
 
 
All the birds lined up, and then the oldest and most experienced went round and saw if they had their travelling equipment in order. All those who had their wings , or had lost some of their tail-feathers, or did not look strong and well, were dismissed or chased away. If they did not obey commands at once, they were beaten to death without mercy.
 
You may be sure there was a great when they discovered the sparrow, who had flown up without being noticed, and had planted himself in the ranks with the others.
 
"A creature like that!" the starling called out. "He wants to go too!"
 
  
"Such a pair of wings!" said the swallow. "He thinks that with them he can fly to Italy!"
 
And all the birds of passage began to scream at once and laugh at the poor sparrow, who sat quite terrified in the midst of them.
 
"I know quite well," he said , "that I am only a poor little sparrow. But I should so like to see the warm, pleasant lands you are going to. Try to take me with you. I will use my wings as well as ever I can. I you to let me come!"
 
"He has some cheek, hasn't he?" said the old stork. "But he shall be allowed to keep his life. Chase him away at once, and then let us be off!"
 
 
So the birds chased the sparrow away, and he hid his miserable self under the eaves.
 
When the review was over, the birds of passage began to make off. Company after company, they flew away through the air, whilst the sparrow peered out from under the eaves and gazed sadly after them.
 
"Now they have all gone," he said. "No one but me is left behind."
 
"Me too!" screamed the crow.
 
"And me," said the chaffinch.
 
"And me too, if you please," peeped the tomtit.
 
"Yes," said the sparrow, "that is how it is. It is just as the swallow says—all we poor birds must stay here and suffer."
 
 
The winter had come. Over all the fields lay the snow, and there was ice on the water. All the leaves lay dead and shrivelled on the ground; and there were no flowers, except here and there a poor frozen daisy, which stood gleaming white among the yellow grass.
 
And the flies and the , and the butterflies and the cockchafers were dead. The snake lay , and so did the . The frog had gone into his winter quarters at the bottom of the pond, sitting deep in the mud, with only his nose sticking up into the air. And that was how he intended to sit the whole winter through.
 
  
The birds who had remained behind had not, after all, such a very bad time of it. The crows held great every evening in the wood, and screamed and so loudly one could hear them ever so far away. The chaffinch and the tomtit about cheerfully enough in the bushes, and picked up what they could find. The sparrow alone was always out of sorts. He sat on the of the roof and himself up, but the whole time he was thinking about the birds of passage.
 
 
"They are there by this time," he said to himself. "Here we have ice and snow; but down south, in the pleasant, warm countries............