A WREN that came into a mountainous region where mining was carried on, having found a deserted pit, made her nest in a hole in its side. One hot summer day an eagle lodged on the branch of a pine tree that stood near the pit, and spied the little wren coming up out of its mouth. Said the eagle:

“So you are not satisfied with getting down on to the ground? You must burrow under it to make your nest! Well, every creature finds its own proper level; but can[375]
[376] you see so far as that lofty crag on the top of yonder mountain? There, up among the clouds, is where I sit with my young, looking down on you little birds that dare not fly to the height of our home.”

The wren, overawed by the eagle’s voice, made no answer, but flew down into the pit again.

The day grew hotter and hotter; the birds through the woods ceased singing and the insects chirping; all nature seemed oppressed by the heat. In the afternoon a small black cloud appeared in the west. It rose rapidly, and soon spread over the whole sky. Then there was a strange sound heard in the distance. It grew louder and nearer. As it approached, tall forest trees bent over and snapped asunder, and great branches, and heavy stones even, were seen flying through the air. It lasted but a moment, and then all was still again.

Now, the wren, hidden in the hole in the pit’s side, had not heard the noise of the storm; but, coming up soon afterward to hunt for a worm, she was dismayed at the scene of desolation that met her eye. Great trunks of trees, and rocks, were strewn over the earth, while among them lay prostrate the eagle and her young. The young ones were dead, and their mother, with a broken wing, in her effort to rise, was vainly beating the ground.

“Alas!” cried the wren, “what has wrought such sad ruin? And how is it that I have escaped, when a strong eagle has been cast down?”

“Ah!” replied the eagle, “had I been a wren with a lowly nest, like you, instead of a proud eagle with her nest built on high, the tornado, which you did not even hear, would have left me and mine, too, unharmed.”

Persons who fill lofty stations are subject to dangers which others know not of, and many a time, when no one suspects it, would be glad to change places with those who envy them.